


Supplemental Fluff

by a_suspiciously_large_pig (Queenie_D)



Series: Pig's Married JMart AU [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Asexual Character, Canon-typical monsters, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I started writing a fic on a whim and now look where I've ended up with it, I will also continue to be terrible at naming things and I have no intent to change that, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, TMA but the characters actually have an ounce of communication skills, Tags May Change, but only references to them, character and relationship tags to be added as I go because I only plan so far ahead, just so much projecting like oh my god, just too many ideas that I couldn't fit in the main fic, like the original fic this is a little all over the place, no beta we die like we're in a mechanisms album, projecting like my life depends on it, spoilers through to season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie_D/pseuds/a_suspiciously_large_pig
Summary: A bunch of one-shots to compliment "Nobody Needs to Know", the main work in this collection. Highly suggest you read that fic before venturing into these, but it's not strictly necessary. Set in the same AU where Jon and Martin are married before they have even started working in the archives.These aren't done in any particular order, so any important info about the setting will be in the chapter summaries, along with any potential spoilers or other important things about that story.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Pig's Married JMart AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060337
Comments: 63
Kudos: 206





	1. What To Do With Your Workaholic Archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon just wants to get one more statement done. Martin disagrees with this decision.
> 
> Set sometimes during the last few chapters of the main fic (sorry, don't really have anything more precise for this time frame)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first installment of "ideas I couldn't get out of my head but also couldn't fit into the main fic"  
> I've been really enjoying writing this AU, so I wanted to do some more with it, and I had some ideas, so I've decided to just do them as little one shots vaguely attached to Nobody Needs To Know. This one is kind of a "deleted scene" type one, since it's set sorta during the other fic, but I just didn't know how to make it work in there. I hope you enjoy them.

"End recording."

Jon let out a heavy sigh as he clicked the tape recorder off. He'd managed to go a few days without finding one that wouldn't record to his laptop, but he knew it was always only a matter of time before he'd find a statement that would give him problems. It was never a pleasant experience when he came across on of them.

Jon usually liked to consider himself a skeptic. Martin had claimed that "pretend like you're a skeptic" was a better way to describe it, but still, he liked to think of himself as one. But that skepticism did nothing for him when he read those statements. There was just something that felt so _wrong_ about them. The ones he recorded onto his laptop were easy, like reading any other horror story, only these ones usually involved a lot more drinking on the part of the authors. The problem statements, though, they were very different. Like when he read them the rest of the world just faded into the background, and there was nothing but him and the statement. He could feel every last bit of fear and anxiety that was written on those pages as clear as if he was the one who had given the statement. There was something so sinister about those statements, and so _real_. And he had no idea what it was. And it scared him.

And to make it just that much worse, they always put him behind schedule.

Glancing over the stacks of files surrounding him on all sides, Jon was acutely aware of how much time these problem statements took up. If he was lucky he'd realize something was wrong with the recording after only a few minutes. Most of the time, though, he'd get through the entire statement before discovering that he was dealing with one of the difficult ones. Then there was the effort of fiddling around with the laptop and redoing part of the recording, but to make sure that it wasn't some other problem. And then once he was sure he'd have to rearrange his desk, swapping the laptop for that old tape recorder, and read the entire things out again, notes and all. Even ignoring the way that they made him feel (which his was inclined to do), he hated dealing with those statements. 

He took another look at other statements on his desk and deflated a little further. He'd just wasted probably and hour on this recording, and there were still countless files to get through. It was probably going to be another solid two days of work to get through his desk alone, and that was only if he didn't run into any more issues with the recordings. Doing audio recordings for the statements had seemed like such a good place to start when he started as Head Archivist, and now here he was, buried under a mountain of paper, with no relief in sight. He shuddered to think of how long it would be before he made it even half way through the archives. And the new statements that still came in on occasion weren't much help.

There was other work that needed to be done in the archives. He couldn't afford to stay locked in his office all day for the next _year_ , desperately trying to get through these statements. But he at least had to get through the ones on his desk. Maybe he could just do a few more before he left, that would put him a little bit ahead on work tomorrow. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He checked his watch to see what time it was.

8:02pm

That was...late. Technically, he should have left an hour ago. It had probably been two hours since his assistants had all left. He should really leave. He knew he should. It would be the smart thing to do. Go home, try and get a good nights sleep, and then he'd be well rested and ready to get through some more statements tomorrow. That really is what should do. He knows it is.

But on the other hand, it wasn't actually _that_ late. And he wasn't even that tired. Besides, it's not like this would be his first time working this late, he'd done it plenty of times when he was in research, and on less important projects too.

He took one more look at his watch.

8:05pm

He had time for one more statement. Then he would go home.

Just one more

* * *

Sunlight trickled in the the window between the curtains. The light steaming gently onto his face pulled Martin out from his sleep, his eyelids just barely fluttering open. A deep breath brought him to reality, his brain finally processing the feeling to the sheets surrounding him. Everything was soft and warm in that dim morning glow. He let himself shut his eyes again and settle back against the pillow.

Until the alarm on his phone went off a few seconds later. The screeching ring jolted him awake, his eyes flying open as he began desperate scramble to grab his phone off of this nightstand. Finally getting hold of the horrid little thing, he hit the snooze button with a bit more force than probably needed. Letting out a groan, he flopped back against the pillow once again, significantly less comfortable than before. 

He always set his alarm a little bit earlier than was really necessary, so he knew he could afford at least one snooze button. Just a few more minutes, that was all he needed. A few minutes with his eyes close, then the drudgery of the day could begin. He did his best to settle back against the bed, pulling the covers back up to his chin, getting his pillow into a more comfortable position. Once he'd gotten those bits sorted, he rolled over and reached his arm to the other side in search of the body that should be there.

And it was empty.

That wasn't completely unusual. Jon sometimes still went in to the institute early, so there was the occasional morning where he would wake up alone. It didn't happen quite as often now that Sasha and Tim knew and they didn't have to be so carful to not be seen showing up together, but every so often it still happened. 

Except, Jon hadn't been home last night. Martin had waited and waited, and once it the clock had hit 11:30 he'd decided that it wasn't worth waiting up any longer. Jon had told him that he was going to stay late at work when he had left the institute yesterday, so it wasn't too big of a shock when it was nearly midnight and still no sign of him. Annoying, but not shocking.

But, the thing was, Jon had also promised that he'd be there in the morning. And yet here Martin was, with the bed stone cold next to him.

"You've got to be kidding me." He whispered to himself.

His eyes creaked back open as he realized exactly what was going on here. It wasn't even the first time this had happened, but it had been over two years since the last time. He'd made Jon swear that this wouldn't happen again. He knew that Jon knew this wasn't good for him, he'd lectured him on it enough. Those lectures had also included the threat of what Martin planned on doing if it happened again.

The alarm rang through the room again, and this time Martin sat up at the sound and turned it off. He pulled himself out of bed, face stitched together in annoyance, and began to get ready to head to the institute.

* * *

It was quiet in the archives when Tim arrived that morning. Fitting, he though, given the kind of morning it had been. He'd woken up before his alarm today, so he actually got to enjoy his morning without feeling like he was in a rush. He'd savored his coffee, made himself a nicer breakfast than he usually had time for, admired that early morning sun that lit the city up in a faint peachy hue. Though he'd always loved a good bit of night life, he found himself appreciating mornings more and more as he got older. Something about having those peacefully moments after he woke up just made the whole day seem more relaxed.

Stepping over to his desk he shed himself of his jacket and draped the back of his chair, and dropped his bag down beside him.

"Morning, Sasha. How are we doing on this fine morning?"

"Morning, Tim." Sasha turned away from the emails she was reading on her laptop to smile back at Tim, "I'm good. You certainly sound like you're in a good mood."

"I'm feeling pretty good. Just been on of those days so far, you know?" He started getting himself set up at his desk. "One of those days where you wake up just feeling refreshed and ready to tackle to day head on, yeah?"

"Yeah, I know those days. Gotta love them." She swiveled around in her chair to face him properly, "Honestly I was feeling a bit like that too, I went for a run this morning and everything, it was great." 

"Oh nice, good for you." He thought about how often he used to do that when he'd worked in research. Something to think about trying again, for sure. "I just had a nice breakfast."

"Hey, don't say it like that, that is a perfectly good way to spend a morning." She laughed.

"Can't argue with you on that." Settling into his chair and opening his laptop, Tim looked at the files on his desk, "So, what's on the plan for today? Bossman give you anything new to do yet?"

"No, nothing yet. I'm sure he'll make his appearance soon enough."

Tim's eyes looked over to the closed door that the end of the room. It was still pretty typical to not see just for a little while after arriving. He tended to try and get a head start on the day, so he would probably be out once he finished with the statement he was recording, or whatever he had going on in there.

His gaze then drifted across the rest of the room, and the other desk.

"No Martin yet?"

Sasha looked over to the empty desk, "No, not yet. Maybe he slept in?"

"As long as he's not gotten trapped by an worm monster again." Tim teased, though there was a hint to much nervousness to it.

As if on cue, the door then swung open, and they both turned and watched as Martin marched into the room. There were slight bags under his eyes and his hair and clothes looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed, but there was a clear determination as he moved.

He paused next to their desks, looking first towards the closed door of the office, then back to Sasha and Tim.

"He's in there?" He pointed a finger towards the office, his voice sounding flat.

"Yeah, pretty sure." Tim answered cautiously.

"Been in there all morning?"

Sasha responded this time, "Since I've been here, yes."

"Great, thanks."

Without another word Martin strode over to the office door. He didn't even knock before throwing it open and stepping inside. With the door wide open like that, Tim and Sasha could clearly hear when Jon spoke.

"Statement given 30th of...oh, um Martin, you're, uh...wait, what are you doin-MARTIN!"

There was some shuffling and rattling, followed by the sound of an office chair tipping over onto the floor, and a few yelps from Jon. Martin emerged from the office, and Tim's eyes went wide at the scene in front of him.

There, in Martin's arms, being held bridal style, was Jon. 

Despite the embarrassment painted across his face, Jon seemed strangely calm about it. He was just letting himself be held, not even an attempt to wriggle out of Martin's grip. His hands were clutching at Martin's shirt, sure, but besides that, he looked almost comfortable being held like that. He wasn't happy about it by any means, but he certainly didn't seem worried about being dropped or anything.

Martin, quite frankly, looked like he just couldn't be bothered.

He walked back to the middle of the room where he had just been, and looked at Tim and Sasha again with an almost blank expression. He was just standing there as if this was an average, run-of-the-mill thing for him to do.

"I will be back. Should hopefully only be an hour at most. He," Martin hoisted Jon up slightly, prompting another distressed sound from him, "will be back tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Tim couldn't help but gawk a little as Martin carried Jon out of the archives, through the door he had left open when he first entered. As that door was kicked shut behind them, Tim turned to Sasha, who appeared equally as astonished by what they'd just witnessed as he was.

They sat there slack jawed for a few beats before Tim had collected enough to speak again.

"That was..."

"...Yeah."

"Honestly I think the weirdest part might have been that Jon didn't even look like he was struggling." Tim chuckled. "He was like a little rag doll."

Sasha let out a few giggled of her own, "I was going to say that it was Martin carrying like he weighted nothing."

"Seriously though. Either Jon is actually as tiny as he looks, or Martin is...a lot stronger than I expected."

"Or both." Sasha suggested.

"Or both." Tim parroted back to her, nodding.

Neither of them got very much work done that morning.

* * *

"Martin, is this all really necessary?" Jon grumbled from where Martin had deposited him on the bed. Martin had put him down at the top of the stairs that lead to the basement where the archive was, and even once they had cleared the institute he had only had a held his hand to drag him around. When they were back at their flat, however, Martin had scooped him back up, and promptly tossed him on the bed.

"I told you before, you work one more all-nighter, and I carry you out of there myself." Martin said to him as he got to work ridding Jon of his shoes.

"I thought you were joking!"

"Seems you were wrong about that, doesn't it." Placing the shoes on the floor at the foot of the bed, Martin went over to the dresser to grab Jon something more comfortable to wear than the work clothes he currently had on. He placed an old t-shit and a pair of pajama bottoms next to Jon, who dutifully started getting changed. "Did you even sleep at all last night, or have you been awake this whole time."

Jon didn't answer that, knowing that Martin would not like the answer. The silence, however, seemed to tell Martin everything he needed to know.

"God, Jon, I know this job is important, but you can't do this. Do you remember how much this used to mess you up when you'd do it? It's not good for you."

"I know, I know," He finished pulling on the clothes Martin had handed him, though he was still sitting upright on the bed, "But I don't think you need to be so worried about this. It's just one time."

Martin rolled his eyes, "Yeah, one time. And then it'll one more time. And they you get into the habit of doing this again and burn yourself out completely."

"It's fine, Martin, really. I'm not even that-" Before he could finish, Martin began carefully running his hands through Jon's hair. The soft touch against his scalp and gentle pull on his hair made the exhaustion of a sleepless night hit him all at once. It was method Martin often used to get him to settle down. Something about those hands in his hair worked like an emergency shut down on his brain. It was dirty trick, but Jon wasn't going to complain.

"What was that, love? Not that tired?"

Jon's eyes drifted shut, his voice coming out more as a hum than anything, "Shut up."

Martin brought him down to lay on the bed, and he went willingly. There was the feeling of blankets being tossed over him, and he was pretty sure he heard Martin say something like "sleep well", though he wasn't quite sure. The last thing he was aware of was the sensation of a kiss against his temple, and then nothing but sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had this image of Martin busting into the archives and carrying Jon out because he worked all night, and I loved it, and I simply had to do something with it. Sometimes you just gotta have that Martin caretaker fluff. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liked this one. If any of you have any ideas you'd like me to write, feel free to comment them and I'll check them out. I'm also on Tumblr if you wanted to send an ask of anything, I'm at celticdragonmaster (it's werid, I know, but I've had it for years and refuse to change it).


	2. A Familiar Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim discovers a new band.
> 
> Set spring 2016 or there about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Mechs was Jon's band in uni" is one of those fandom things that is just so ridiculous and that I love so so much. How could I resist. I also got in a small "Elias has been divorced 17 times" joke in this one, which is another ridiculous thing I love. So basically what I'm saying is this fic was an excuse for me to use fandoms jokes that I love.

Most days, Jon would still take his breaks in his office, but every so often he'd meander his way down to the breakroom it sit for a while. He'd gotten through more statements than he thought he would that morning, so he decided today was one of those days. He still wasn't a huge fan of that breakroom, with those awful overhead lights being just a bit too blue to be comfortable for his eyes, but it was good to breakup the monotony of the day somehow. 

He had been sitting at the dingy little table for a short while, a few pages into his book, when Tim walked in. He didn't seem to noticed Jon when he first walked in, but the rhythmic bobbing of his head tipped Jon off to why that was. And sure enough, Tim had in his earbuds, as he often did through the day, the cord snaking its way down to his pocket. Jon couldn't blame him for how often he seemed to have those earbuds in, he used to do about the same back in research. It was always a lot easier to slog through pages and pages of documents and files with the comfortable background noise of music. Jon has also just always had a love of music.

Tim did eventually notice him, seeming to have caught him out of the corner of his eye. He pulled out one of the earbuds, letting it dangle down against his shirt.

"Oh, hey Jon. Didn't even see you there. Not often you come out of your little cave for lunch. Not unless Martin drags you out of there."

"I do occasionally take breaks of my own volition, Tim." Jon said with his usual dry inflection, though it lacked any sincerity here.

Tim responded with an eye roll and a dry laugh. It had take Jon a while to adapt to Tim's love of teasing, but now it was something he found almost endearing about Tim.

"Wow, we _are_ in a good mood today, aren't we?" Tim chuckled as he shut the door of the fridge, "You're out of your dungeon, and I even got a response to my banter out of you that wasn't just pure irritation. Wait, hold on, let me guess, you...got an extra statement done this morning."

Jon's lips pressed into a tight line as he looked at Tim's expectant face, and he felt his cheeks getting warmer, "... it was two extra, actually."

"HA! Knew it."

There was an eye roll from Jon this time, "I know, me and my statements-"

"I'm just saying, you might make poor Martin jealous with how much time you spend with those things."

"Yes yes..." Jon waved him off with a smile plain across his face. With another low laugh from Tim, he turned his attention back to heating up his lunch, nodding along with his music again.

Moments like these were so mundane, but they meant the world to Jon. He'd never been one of make friend easily, and he usually had an even worse time keeping the. Coworkers usually weren't much better. They were usually just simply people who he worked with, nothing more. He'd expected his relationship with his assistants wouldn't be all that different, especially since he'd spend five or so years with that kind of dynamic with them. Yet here he was, getting to enjoy these casual friendly moments. He might not say it much, but he was thankful for them.

Even something as simple as listen to Tim hum along with the song he was listening to was something of a comfort to Jon. A little reminder that Tim didn't mind him being around, didn't mind him him listening to him mumble bits of whatever he had on. Plus, Jon had made a bit of a game out of it for himself. He considered himself to be someone with a rather broad taste in music, so he found it fun to challenge himself to try and recognize the song him was humming. He'd gotten pretty good at it too.

Jon listened a little closer, straining to hear clearly over the whir of the microwave. He could just make out the song, but it definitely sounded familiar...

...very familiar.

Too familiar.

He leaned forward a bit more, now desperate to make out the notes over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, as well. He had to be wrong, it couldn't possibly. He was imagining things, hearing things, he had to be. He desperately listened for something that would prove his first thought wrong, but then Tim settled the debate with a few muttered words.

"... _take Aurora in gently, Nastya, lets see what these Rosies can do_..."

Jon never knew that so few words could strike such terror into someone's heart. Or, at least, he didn't think so few words could strike such terror into his heart, given it was his job to deal with terrifying words. But the second those words came out of Tim's mouth, his heart lurched.

"U-um, Tim..." He was amazed he could even will himself to speak, "what, uh, w-what exactly are you listening to?"

"What?" Tim turned back to Jon, one earbud still resting against his chest, "Oh, yeah, they're this weird band I started listening to, like, maybe a week ago. One of their songs came on in this playlist I was listening to, and I sorta loved it, so I've been checking out their other stuff since then. Different for what I'm usually into, but it's really good. They're called The Mechanisms, you ever heard of them before?"

Tim showed Jon his phone, where the streaming service now displayed the cover art for the song. He knew that cover like the back of his hand. Jon lost a little more hope on the possibility that this all might just be a dream.

"I...uh..." He searched his brain for what he could possibly say in response to that, and eventually landed on what he thought was the easiest solution.

"Goodness, Tim, would you look at the time. I really should be getting back to work. If you need me for anything, I'll be in my office."

Was it the smoothest exit? Absolutely not. Was it probably wildly suspicious? Yes, probably. But it got him out of that conversations, and that was all he needed.

* * *

Martin was heading back to the assistants office from document storage when he heard a voice calling to him.

"Martin!" Tim took a few bounding steps towards him from the break room, "Hey, could I ask you something quickly?"

Never a relaxing way to start a conversation in Martin's opinion, but he nodded anyway. "Um, yeah, sure."

There was slight concern on Tim's face, "Is there anything going on with Jon right now?"

Taken aback slightly by the questions, Martin met Tim's concern with a look of confusion, "No...why?"

"It's nothing really." He shrugged, "Ran into him in the break room. He just seemed jumpy is all."

"Well, it is Jon."

"True. But, like, not his normal jumpy."

"Hmm," The confusion grew even deeper on Martin's brow, "Did anything happen? Where you talking about anything, or was he doing something, or..."

Tim shook his head, "Not really. Not that I can think of at least. I just walked into the breakroom, grabbed my lunch, we bantered a bit, all pretty normal. But he practically ran out of the room after a bit, it was weird."

"That does sound weird." He knew Jon could be an anxious person, but usually there was something that set him off when he did something like that. There was something he was missing, Martin knew, he just had to figure out what. "What was he doing when you walked in?"

"Just reading a book."

Nothing out of the ordinary there, "Ok. What did you guys talk about?"

"Nothing, really. I was poking fun at him and the statements, but that didn't seem to bother him any." He considered it with another shrug, "Only other thing was we talked about this band I've been listening to. I guess that was when he started getting weird, but I have no idea why that would make him all skittish like that. He usually likes talking about music."

Something finally clicked, "That's...interesting. What, uh, what band were you talking about."

"It's this one that I just started listening to." Tim pulled out his phone to show him the album he'd been listening to, "The Mechanisms. You know them?"

 _Yes._ "No." Martin looked down at the familiar page shaking his head, "No, I don't think I've ever heard of them. I don't know, Tim, I'm not sure what's going on with him. I'll have to ask him about it later."

"Ok, cool. Just wanted to make sure he'd alright. Anyways, I'll let you get back to work." Still looking curious, Tim turned back down the hallway. 

It wasn't pleasant to lie to Tim, but sometimes it was necessary. This was one of those few instances where Martin felt it was indeed necessary. 

Martin pulled out his phone. There was already a message there waiting for him.

* * *

**Jon Sims (12:41pm):** "Martin we have a problem."

**Martin Blackwood (12:42pm):** "Tim is listening to your old band"

**Jon Sims (12:42pm):** "Tim is listening to my band!"

 **Jon Sims (12:43pm):** "This can't actually be happening."

**Martin Blackwood (12:44pm):** "Does he know it's your band?"

**Jon Sims (12:45pm):** "No, I don't think so. At least he didn't let on to anything when I was talking to him earlier."

**Martin Blackwood (12:45pm):** "Alright what did he say to you earlier?"

**Jon Sims (12:47pm):** "We were in the breakroom, I thought I heard him humming one of the songs, so I asked him about what he was listening to. He confirmed that that was indeed what he was listening to, and then asked me if I'd ever heard of them."

**Martin Blackwood (12:48pm):** "Did you say anything?"

**Jon Sims (12:49pm):** "No. I left the room as pretty quickly after that."

 **Jon Sims (12:50pm):** "When he asked me about them, I do think he was genuinely asking, though. He didn't seem to be suggesting anything with the question, I think he was honestly asking my if I'd ever heard of them."

**Martin Blackwood (12:50pm):** "That's good"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:51pm):** "I had a similar conversation with him too"

**Jon Sims (12:51pm):** "Martin, you know I love you more that I can ever say, and I trust you with my life, but I swear to god if you told Tim anything I'm filing for divorce tonight."

**Martin Blackwood (12:52pm):** "Ok, calm down there Elias"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:52pm):** "I didn't say anything"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:52pm):** "I said I hadn't heard of them and I got out of there"

**Jon Sims (12:53pm):** "Ok."

 **Jon Sims (12:53pm):** "Thank you."

 **Jon Sims (12:53pm):** "Sorry."

**Martin Blackwood (12:54pm):** "It's ok <3"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:55pm):** "So, I'm guessing the plan is keep acting like we don't know anything and cross our fingers that he doesn't figure anything out"

**Jon Sims (12:56pm):** "Yes please."

**Martin Blackwood (12:56pm):** "Alright, shall do"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:59pm):** "You know, I'm still not completely sure why you're so determined to keep it a secret"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:59pm):** "Bands are cool"

 **Martin Blackwood (12:59pm):** "Plus you made good music, I'd be pretty proud of that"

**Jon Sims (1:01pm):** "I prefer to maintain a certain level of professionalism and respectability amongst my coworkers, and I feel that it can be a bit hard to do that when they keep picturing you strutting around a stage dressed as a space pirate."

**Martin Blackwood (1:03pm):** "Fair enough"

* * *

"I see I'm being subjected to you and your music again."

After double checking that his speaker was all set up, Tim shot Sasha a side eye, "Oh come off it, you like my music."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." She giggled, "So what was that were you saying before?"

"Oh, right," Tim settled down beside her, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch, "I was just saying that Jon was acting weird again this week. I was talking to him on Thursday and he got all jumpy. Martin couldn't think of anything, so was worried he might be trying to hide something again. No idea what, but I just got that feeling, you know?"

Sasha tipped her head back with a groan, "God, I hope not. I think we've all dealt with quite enough of Jon trying to keep secrets, thank you very much."

Tim gave a huffed laugh, "Hopefully if he is it's not going to take some supernatural disaster for him to tell us this time." 

"Seriously though." She repositioned herself, leaning in a bit closer to Tim, "Now, what new discovery are you showing me this time?"

"Ok, so, it's a bit weird but just trust me on this. I'm not really sure how to describe them, but they, like...their albums are all stories...I don't know, it's cool." He hit play on his phone, and the sound of guitar and violins began filling the room. 

They sat there for a minutes, just listening to the music. Tim watched Sasha's face, looking for her reaction, and breathed a content sigh when he was he starting to smile. He always felt like he'd succeeded when he found something that Sasha liked.

"Pretty good, right?"

"It's good, yeah. I like it." Her hair swayed along as she bobbed her head.

They both let themselves get lost in the song for a moment. They were good at that, letting their minds drift off together, finding those nice wordless moments where they could just enjoy each others company and whatever thing they'd found to distract them.

Tim took another look over at Sasha, and found her with a strangely contemplative look. He nudged her knee, "What's up?"

She shook her head as she came back into the moment, "Oh, nothing. It's just one of the singers, their voice sounds familiar."

He listened for another second. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed it, but he'd mostly let it go so far, "It does, doesn't it. I think I've heard it before, I just can't think of where."

"Yeah, it's weird."

"Well, whoever it is, they've got a good voice."

Glancing over she gave him a smirk, "A good voice?"

"Hey, don't judge me," He shoved her knee again, "I am a grown man and I am allowed to appreciate a sexy voice should I so please.

There was giggles from both of them as they settled back to listen to the music again. Tim let himself relax to just enjoy the music. Sasha, on the other hand, still seemed bothered by the thought nagging in her head.

"I swear I know that voice from somewhere." She moved closer to the speaker to hear better, "Have you heard of any of them before?"

"What do you mean?"

Her head turned slowly towards him, "The band members. Their names or faces or whatever, did any of them seem familiar?"

"I, uh-"

"Have you not looked them up yet?"

"...no."

" _Tim_." Sasha looked at him with wide eyes, "You of all people haven't tried to figure this out yet? You're the kind of person who is almost constantly on your phone during movies looking up actors, but you're just going to let this go? Usually stuff like this drives you crazy, I'm shocked."

He tried to defend himself, but before he could even start she already had her phone out. "It's not that big of a deal, Sasha-"

"No, it's bothering me now, so I need to figure this out or it'll bother me all night." Not even looking up from her phone screen, "I don't recognize the names, but they're stage names, so that's not helpful. Ok, wait, I found a picture...quite the costumes. Let's just see if I can...recognize...anyone..."

Apart from the music still quietly playing in the background, the room when quite. From the expression on her face, Tim thought she must have found something, so he sat there, awkwardly waiting for her verdict, while she continued to stare slack jawed at her phone.

After an uncomfortable stretch of time he finally decided to try and get her attention back, "Sasha? Did you, uh, find anything?"

In response she shoved her phone towards him, displaying a picture of the band all standing together.

"Tell me, Tim, what do you notice in this picture?"

"Um..." He looked for something that could have possibly gotten that kind of reaction from her, "...it's quite the costumes they've all got."

"Yes, they're great, but-" She pulled her phone back for just a second, only to shove it back in his face, now zoomed in on one particular face, "Do you notice anything _now_?"

It took a second for it to register, but as soon as it did, he understood Sasha's initial reaction. The face was younger than he was used to it looking, and the makeup made him doubt it for a second, but sure enough, he knew the face he was looking at in that picture.

"...no fucking way."

* * *

Another Monday morning had rolled around, quiet and unwanted. Jon stepped into his office, sighing as he dropped his bag on the desk. It was early, as it always was when he got into work, though not as early as he used to show up. He and Martin had ongoing negotiations over when was an acceptable time to show up for work, with Martin often arguing that "there is no need to get to there an hour early, they aren't even paying us then". Today, Jon had seem the appeal of Martin's position. He'd felt even more tired than usual, the sound of rain had been pounding against the windows, and the bed had just been so comfortable. It had not taken much convincing from Martin to stay there a few minutes extra.

Arranging himself at this desk, Jon still wished he was there. He knew he was a bit of a workaholic, but that didn't mean he didn't have his days where he just wasn't feeling up to it. It wasn't that he was feeling sick or anything, he just simply wasn't it the mood for it today. But he was here, and if he was here he was going to work. All he could do was hope that he'd be lucky enough for a quick, easy day. No supernatural strangeness, no live statements, no visits from Elias, no surprises. Just a nice, simple, quiet day.

"Hello Jon."

Jon startled a little, and looked up towards the voice that came from his doorway "Morning Tim."

With a swagger to his step and a spark in his eye that made Jon suspicious, Tim moved over to his desk, "So, you remember how after the whole marriage thing, we all kind of promised no more secrets."

He looked Tim over, thoroughly confused now. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary at first glace; eyesore of a shirt that he somehow pulled off, phone in one hand, headphones still sitting around his neck. He looked like he usually did when he arrived, nothing that raised any alarm bells. 

"Yes?" Jon responded, cautiously.

"Then would care to explain this." Flipping around the phone that had been clutched to his chest, Tim shoved the screen towards Jon's face, making sure he could see the image on it as clear as day. 

Jon could certainly see it clear enough. Even with the mediocre quality of it the nearly decade old image he recognized it in a instant. It was a photo of him. Plain as could be, it was him in that picture. And was was also plain to see in that photo was the stage he was standing on. And the microphone in his hand. And the eyeline drawn across his face. And the goggles perched on his head.

"... _Oh_." Jon had never had a heart attack, but he was pretty sure he knew what they felt like now. 

Tim was staring down at him, waiting for some kind of answer. His brain was going a mile a minute trying to think of some excuse to weasel his way out of the situation. Unfortunately running didn't seem to be an option, with Tim standing between him and the door. Maybe he actually was having a heart attack right now, that solve this. 

"So? Anything to say?" There was now a devilishly wide smile on Tim's face.

"I...uh...well..." Without a second thought, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "I have no idea what this is."

Tim tilted his head, raising his eyebrows slightly, "Really? That's what you're going with?"

"...Yes."

"Even though that's clearly you in the picture?" His face somehow became even more smug.

"You have no proof of that."

"Except that that is clearly your face."

"Could be someone else."

"Seriously?"

"You don't know!" Jon snapped, "It could be...my cousin."

"Do you have a cousin?"

He did not. "It could just be someone who looks like me!"

"Oh come on Jon!" Tim threw his head back, "Admit it. This is obviously you in this picture, so just admit it."

Jon opened his mouth a few times, desperately trying to get himself to make any sound at all, but nothing came. His thoughts were swimming in so much adrenaline he wasn't even sure he was in control of his body anymore. Tim's seemed to be growing by the second. Then, like a miracle in a sweater vest and wire rimmed glasses, Martin stepped into the office.

"I brought you tea, did you need..." Martin froze for a moment, mug in hand, taking in the scene he had just walked in on, "Tim, what have you done to my husband this time?"

In response, Tim took a step towards Martin, holding out the phone for him to see. Martin just nodded.

"Ah, yes, that would do it."

"He's trying to claim it's not him."

Martin's eyes squeezed shut, "Oh my- Really, Jon?"

"I panicked!" Jon cried out, "You know I don't work well under this kind of pressure. And I...and...Martin would stop laughing!"

Though he had a hand covering his mouth, the crinkles around Martin's eyes gave him away, "Sorry sorry, not laughing. Very serious."

Flopping down into his chair in defeat, since _apparently_ his husband was going to be any help, Jon hid his face in his hands. "How did you even find that picture?"

"Sasha."

His hands pressed a little harder against his face, "Of course it was Sasha."

"Alright, in all seriousness though," Tim said, his overly satisfied face finally relaxing, "I don't get why you're so...this over it."

"That's what I said." Martin added quietly.

"Because it's embarrassing!"

"Not it's not!"

'It was a stupid uni band."

"And?" Tim threw his hands up, "You were in a band! That's cool as hell!"

Jon ripped his hands away from his face, "What?"

Jon, bands are, like, inherently cool." Tim leaned over the desk, "Especially if the music is good. And since you already know I've been listening to your music for a while, I'd say it's pretty good."

Again Jon found himself at a loss for words, unable to do anything but stare up on Tim. Martin just rolled his eyes, and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"I've been trying to convince him he doesn't need to be so shy about this for years." He whispered to Tim, "He refuses to accept it. It's probably easier to just leave it."

Tim stared back at Jon for a breath longer, then scoffed and started moving towards the door, "Fine. Fine, whatever. You made good music, Jon, whether you want to accept that or not."

Martin hung back as Tim stormed out of the room. When he turned to Jon, there was a barely contained smile growing on his face and a wicked look in his eye.

Jon shot him a glare, "Not. A. Word."

Setting the mug of tea down on the desk, Martin leaned over and pressed a kiss on top of Jon's head, not quite managing to choke down a low chuckle "Whatever you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized as I was writing this that with the way I have written Jon there is kinda the implication that he and his former bandmates just like no longer speak/are no longer friends and I made myself sad with that so that's great.


	3. A Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has been struggling with things lately, but Martin thinks he known one thing he can help with.
> 
> Set in 2017 (would be during season 3)  
> CW for description of burns/injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little while back I got the suggestion from Mrs_Non_Gorilla for one about Martin doing Jon's hair. I then realized I could slip in this kinda little angsty headcanon/idea I had about the Jude Perry handshake in season three, and voila, this. I might have tried to stick mostly to fluff for Nobody Needs to Know, but I am a sucker for a touch of hurt/comfort, so it was only a matter of time before I really dipped my toes into those waters.

Once again, the pen slipped out of Jon's grip, bouncing off his leg and hitting the floor with an almost mocking rattling sound. With a heavy sigh, Jon snapped the notebook in his lap shut, and tossed it onto the couch beside him. He had hoped to get at least something useful done while Martin insisted that he take a few days off, but it seemed that he wasn't even going to be able to do that. It should have been simple, just make some notes on the research he was doing. Nothing dangerous, nothing life threatening, no monsters or anything to deal with. But of course it wasn't simple. Not even writing something down was simple for him anymore. Not since...

God, how could he have been so stupid. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Jude Perry. There wasn't a thing about her that told him that he was able to trust her. For Christ's sake, she was a part of a cult that seemed to revolve around destruction. He should never have trusted her. But he did. For a few, foolish seconds, he trusted her, on some level, and now here he was.

They'd just recently had to change the bandages on his hand, so he'd been able to see it in all its glory. Mangled was the word he thought best described it. His palm, all his fingers, the spots that wrapped around the back of his hand that still looked disturbingly like Jude's fingers, all of it still glowed angrily with that deep burn she had left him with. Sometimes if he focused, he could swear that he still smell that same scent that had been there when his flesh had begun to sizzle in her grasp. It was healing, sure (quicker than it probably should have, frankly, thought he tried not to think about that too much), but there was no question that it was going to leave a nasty scar. He was pretty sure his hand wasn't ever going to be the same.

His hand.

His right hand.

His _dominant_ hand.

That was the problem with handshakes, you see. Most people shook hands with their right hand. Most people also happened to be right handed. He was certain Jude must have realized that. She struck him as the kind of person who would find satisfaction in being able to inflict that extra little bit of misery onto someone. An extra layer of cruelty, so that even once the pain had subsided, you'd never be able to completely forget it. 

Not being able to write properly was really just the cherry on top. Even the most simple things in his day to day life felt like a struggle now. He'd been spending a good deal of his time since his meeting with Jude practicing how to do things like eat with cutlery and brush his teeth with his left hand, so that he was able to do it with some semblance of coordination. 

And he knew this wasn't the end of the world. People went through things like this all the time. Broken bones, sprains, there were lots of people going without their hands. Hell, he'd known someone in university who had had a hand amputated, and they were fine. He knew that eventually the worst of the burn would heal, and he'd have his hand back at some capacity in time, and he'd learn to deal with any problems he might have in the future. He just needed to give it time.

But he was _frustrated_ , dammit. He already felt helpless at work, with everything they'd been through in the last year. He was a researcher, he wasn't equipped to be dealing with worm monsters and Not Things and people made of boiling wax. If he could just understand it, he though, then he would be able to deal with at least some of it a little better. With his hand, however, even just trying to study these things was difficult. He couldn't write, he could barely type, and dictating things into the tape recorders felt...strange. So there he was, with one more thing that made him feel like he was completely unable to help. One more thing to make him feel useless. 

"Jon?"

Jon's head shot up from where it had been resting in his hand. He'd been so lost in his own self-deprecating train of thought that he hadn't even heard the door to the flat opening. Martin was standing a little ways away form him, a warm smile on his face, but the concern not quite hidden in his eyes.

"You doing alright?" Martin asked him gently. He moved the discarded notebook to the coffee table, taking a seat beside Jon.

"Yes, fine. I'm..." Jon paused, letting out another sigh. It was an old reflex, putting up wall around his emotions, letting his frustration slip into his voice. But this was Martin, and no matter how frustrated he was, he refused to let himself push Martin away because of it. Taking a breath, he started again, the snap in his voice now replaced with something softer, almost sad.

"I was...I was trying to take some notes, but..." His foot swung, knocking the pen that was still laying on the floor, "Couldn't get a hold of the pen."

He didn't even need to look at Martin to know the expression he had on. He'd seen a lot of it lately. Not quite the usual pitying look that he would get from people, no, that look always felt condescending, belittling. The face Martin wore was something much more genuine, something softer, with such open care and empathy that sometimes it almost hurt. 

An arm came up to warp around him, and Jon went willingly with it, curling in against Martin's side. At times he almost found it childish, the way he would sometimes seem so desperate to be hugged when he was upset, but he'd already spent enough time today wallowing in self pity if he was going to wallow any longer, it might as well be with Martin holding him. Martin usually seemed just as eager to offer a hug as Jon as to take it, so at least he didn't feel as if he was being any more of an inconvenience that he already did. 

He tucked himself closer into Martin, letting his head rest against his chest, and drawing his knees up to meet his own. Maybe he felt a bit pathetic like this, but it felt about right for the mood he was in. Martin gave him a squeeze, drawing him in closer, and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. When he felt Martin's hand begin to stroke across his head, that was when the tension in him really seemed to fall away. His eyes fluttered shut, his limbs went limp, and he allowed himself to savor the feeling of it.

He'd never quite been able to describe the kind of power that people touching his hair had on him. Sure, he was a touchy person with the people he was comfortable enough around, often looking for an excuse to lean in against them, be close, have some kind of contact. But his hair had its own strange effect. Georgie had commented on it a few times back when they had dated, how cute she found it, the way he would lean into it like a touch starved cat. And Martin often took advantage of it, using it whenever he needed something to help him settle down. Jon wondered if it was somehow related to the way he would fidget with his hair himself when he would get nervous or worked up, twisting it and tugging it and running his hands through it over and over again. He was honestly fascinated by it sometimes, just how much emotion he had tangled into his hair.

Martin chuckled softly as Jon continued to melt into him. "Feeling a little better?"

"Yeah." Jon mumbled into Martin's chest, "'s nice."

"Good." Martin continued to run his hands through Jon's hair, letting his fingers trail all the way down to the ends, "It's getting pretty long."

"Hmm?"

"Your hair. It's getting long again. I don't think it's been this long since..."

"Since we started dating, I think." Jon said, finishing the thought. "I got it cut short just before my first interview with Elias."

His job in research had been his first proper academic job since graduating uni, so he had wanted to look the part. He'd thought a head full of long, unruly curls hadn't quite reflected the serious, respectable way he wanted to appear, so he'd gone to the barber just before that first interview and had it cut down to just reach the tops of his ears. He'd hated it, honestly, but he thought that's what people would expect from him. After a few months in research, watching Tim show off his collection of garishly coloured Hawaiian shirts, he'd felt daring enough to start growing it out again. He'd kept it at what he thought was a good middle ground for most of his time at the institute, never much shorter than his chin, but not letting it get any farther than his shoulders. Still professional looking, he thought, but also much closer to the way he liked it. Since working in the archives, however, he wasn't sure if the more accurate way to describe it was that he hadn't had the time to worry about it, or that he simply didn't care anymore. Before he'd been careful about having it trimmed every few months, but he hadn't bothered to get it cut in over a year, so now it hung down in loose curls of black and silver, falling past his shoulders. Maybe at one point he'd have worried about being told that his fluffy mess of hair might not have seemed professional enough for someone in his position, but when actual, literal monsters were something you deal with regularly now, possible dress code violations were low on your list of concerns.

"It looks nice like this." Martin said as he tugged a few more strands between his fingers, "I honestly missed it when you cut it short."

Jon hummed in agreement, "I've never liked having short hair. My grandmother always insisted I kept it short. She told me that long hair 'wasn't appropriate for a young man'. That's probably why I started growing it out as soon as I moved away for university."

"Jonathan Sims, you really are a rebel at heart, aren't you?" Martin laughed.

"Maybe so. Though I doubt you'd be able to convince too many people of that." Jon said, a smile beginning to pull at the sides of his mouth. 

"You do pull off the stuffy prude persona pretty convincingly. But, you can't fool me."

A fond breath of a laugh slipped out of Jon, "No, I guess I can't."

They fell back into silence for a second, Martin still gently running his fingers through Jon's hair. There was the occasional pull as he would hit a tangled spot, and each time it gave a small pull at something in Jon's chest as well.

"I do like your hair long." Martin breathed out, just above a whisper, "It's pretty. It suits you."

Just then Martin's hang tugged at a particularly stubborn knot, and Jon winced quietly. It hadn't hurt, but it did make him think of something.

"Yeah." Jon replied, his voice coming out a little sadder than he had hoped.

Martin's hand stilled, and Jon felt as he shifted, probably to get a better look at him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I was just thinking...I really ought to cut it soon. I'd probably be better off cutting it short."

"What?" Martin moved again, shifted Jon to a more upright position, so he could see his face, "Why? I thought you liked your hair like this?"

"I do, it just..." Jon stopped for a moment, sighing heavily. He then held up his bandage wrapped hand between them, "My hand. I can hardly even hold a pen right now. It's already starting to get out of control, anyway, it would probably just be easier for me to chop it all off."

"But you just said that you hated having your hair short."

"I know, I know. And I do." Jon scrubbed a hand over his face, "But it would just be easier. I might not like it, but at least then I wouldn't have to worry about it. I can't do anything about it, so why bother with it."

Martin eyes went wide for a moment, and Jon realized that he had put a little more meaning into that last words than he had intended. He couldn't help it really. Sure, he liked his hair like this, how it looked and how it felt, but at the same time, he could see how it was growing messier and more unkempt by the day. It was becoming just one more thing to remind him how useless he felt. He wasn't happy about the idea of cutting it short, but being stuck with choices he wasn't happy with was something he was starting to get use to.

"Oh, Jon." There was a long moment where Martin just looked at him, face full of compassion. Then his mouth set in a hard line, and he moved to get up from the couch, "Wait right here."

"Wait, Martin, what are you-"

"Just give me a second." Martin strode down the little hallway in their apartment, returning a moment later with something clutched in his hand, "Alright, turn around."

"Wha-"

"Come on, Jon, just turn around." Martin insisted as he settled back down beside him. Jon did as he was asked and turned with his back to Martin. He wasn't sure what he was planning, but he trusted Martin, so he decided it would just be easier to go along with it.

Martin scooted in closer behind Jon, bringing a hand up to start working through Jon's hair again. It still felt nice, but it also felt more deliberate than it had a few minutes ago, fingers seeming to be searching out spots where they would stick as they brushed through. It was only when felt the teeth of a comb rub against neck at one of the more stubborn knots that Jon realized just what was going on.

"Oh, wait, no, Martin it's fine, really. Y-you don't have to do this."

"I know." Martin stated plainly, "But the thing is, Jon, I _want_ to do this."

Jon froze, trying to think of what to say next. "But...I-"

"It just makes sense, really." Martin said as he continued to carefully pick apart knots, "I know you prefer your hair like this. You've always been more comfortable when you grow your hair out. You don't actually want to cut it. So, while your hand heals, I'll help you with the upkeep."

"But Martin, you really don't need to-"

"Right, you know what," Martin huffed, giving Jon's hair a playful tug, "If you're not going to accept me doing this for the sake of helping you, then let me do it for selfish reasons. _I_ like your hair like this. _I_ don't want to see you cut it all off. I think you look really hot with long hair, and I enjoy playing with it. I'm doing this because I like your long hair and I want your to keep it like this, ok? Does that work for you? Will you let me do your hair now?"

A warmth bloomed in Jon's chest, spreading up and across his face. Turning around towards him, Jon placed a hand against Martin's face, leaning in to kiss him. 

"Thank you, Martin. I love you."

"I love you too." Martin smiled, placing his hand over the one Jon had resting on his cheek, "Now, will you please turn around and let me finish."

Turning back, Jon settled with his back to Martin, tilting his head to give him better access to their hair. Martin started again, running the comb and his fingers through the strands, getting out the last of the worst tangles. Jon let himself sink back into the feeling of hands in his hair, and that affectionate warmth taking over his body. 

"So, you like my long hair?" Jon murmured. 

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look with your hair like this? I mean..." Martin paused, and Jon could feel the puff of breath on his neck as Martin let out a quiet laugh, "Ok, this is honestly embarrassing, but...you remember when we met? That first day in the café, yeah? So basically, after you left and one of my coworkers showed up, I think I talked to them for, like, nearly ten minutes just about your hair. I seriously thought it was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, I am not kidding. Seriously, if I hadn't already known I was gay then, I think I would have figured it out right then and there." Jon could tell from the way Martin was laughing that his cheeks had likely gone bright red, and so he couldn't stop himself from laughing right along with him. "I...I don't know, it was just really pretty, and I thought it made _you_ look really pretty, and...and maybe I was curious about whether it was a soft as it looked or not." 

"And was it?" Jon giggled.

"Yes. And it still is." Martin slowly ran his hands down Jon's hair a few times, as if making a point out of it.

With the tangles now removed, Martin began to separate the hair into a few sections, starting near the top of his head. They were both quiet as Martin began French braiding Jon's hair, happy enough just being together like this for a moment. Martin was slow and deliberate as he moved down the braid, making sure the hair was just where he wanted it. Jon's eyes drifted shut as Martin worked, the soft pull as he passed strands over and around each other serving as a source of comfort. For what felt like the first time in days, Jon was able to clear his mind of everything that was happening with the archives, focusing on the sensations he felt; the delicate movements of Martin's hands, the knuckles that would graze his neck, the soft press of Martin's leg against his back. It never ceased to amaze Jon the way Martin could do this, the way he could take something that was honestly such a mundane action and imbue it with so much care and tenderness. It was far from even being the first time Martin had done this, and yet this still felt like it was something special.

Flexing his burnt hand slightly, he supposed there was something special about this. 

Martin reached the end of the braid, looping a hair tie around it and letting it fall against Jon's neck. As he turned around, Jon ran a hand over his hair, admiring Martin's work with a satisfied smile. 

"Do you like it?" Martin asked.

Jon nodded, "Yes, Martin, it's wonderful, I love it." He stopped for a second, looking Martin in the eye, "Thank you."

Martin shrugged, a cheerful smile on his face, "It's really nothing. Like I said, like doing your-"

"No, Martin," Jon cut him off. He reached out with his gauze covered hand to gingerly take hold of the hand Martin had resting in his lap, " _Thank you_. For...for your help. For everything. Thank you."

Martin's smile softened. His free hand came to rest on the nape of Jon's neck, his thumb stroking a line just beneath his ear, "I love you, Jon. And that means that I'm here for you. I meant what I said earlier about wanting to do this for you. I _want_ to help you. However I can, whatever you need me for."

Leaning his head down, Jon pressed a kiss to the inside of Martin's forearm, "I love you too, Martin."

The hand on his neck then pulled Jon in closer. Martin kissed him first on his forehead, and then move to kiss him again on his lips. Jon might have had a soft spot for having his hair touched, but he had to admit that this was also a rather fantastic feeling.

As the kiss broke, Martin held him their a little while longer, their foreheads pressed together.

"So," Martin said quietly, "How about we stay right here and just order take away for dinner?"

A fond laugh shook through Jon, and he leaned in to plant another quick kiss on Martin's lips, "Sounds like a plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other nice things about this fic concept is I was once again able to violently project things onto Jon (hello weird attachment to my long hair and desperate need for a hug). Although, I personally am not actually that big a fan of other people touching my hair, but that might have to do with my things about people touching my head lol. I have, however, known several people who absolutely melt whenever you touch their hair, so that's always kinda what this was inspired by.


	4. The Many Observations of Timothy Stoker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five things that Tim thinks are a little strange, plus one time that things finally clicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is there so much Tim POV in this JonMartin fic you ask? I don't know, I really don't. But he just keeps popping up. I decided I wanted to try one of these 5+1 style fics, I think they're pretty fun, and I think it can work pretty well for this, so here's a little look into Tim's perspective through the fic.

**1**

How on earth did Jonathan Sims take his tea?

Tim suspected this was not a question that should be bothering him this much, but he just couldn't get it out of his head. Sure, it made sense that he might not know how Jon takes his tea, since it wasn't like Tim had ever really had a reason to bring him tea, but that was something you knew about friends right? He knew what Sasha liked to drink; she drank coffee black, with the exception of those fancier drinks she denied loving, and she took her tea with a little bit of milk and a little bit of sugar. That was a perfectly normal thing for friends to know about each other. And he and Jon were friends, right? He'd known him and worked with him since he started at the institute. He considered Jon a friend, anyway. So why the hell, no matter how hard he tried, could he not think of how Jon liked his tea?

This question had been in the back of Tim's mind since just after they all started in the archive, just over a month before. Though he couldn't answer the question, he'd at least figured out where it had come form: Martin.

Martin was great. Funny, easy to work with, and, above all else, Martin was exceptionally nice to them. Part of that niceness, Tim had quickly realized, manifested in his regular tea runs. It had started with just the morning, asking if anyone wanted anything before he started work, and it had eventually evolved into him offering to make tea every afternoon as well. 

And these tea runs where exactly why this question had been on Tim's mind, because Martin had asked both him and Sasha how they liked their tea several times, making sure he got it just right, but for the life of him, he could not think of when he had ever seen Martin ask Jon.

In fact, he was pretty sure he'd never asked Jon about tea period. Just brought it to him in the afternoon, regardless of anything else. It was a little routine they'd all just accepted. He can still remember Martin's comments about how he thought Jon would "appreciate a cup", and evidently he had, since it had continued like that ever day since. 

For a little while Tim wondered if Martin had just guessed how Jon liked his tea. Maybe he did it in a trial-and-error sort of system, seeing how Jon would react to different amounts of milk and sugar until Jon seemed stratified. But that didn't make sense. It wasn't like Martin saw Jon's face while he drank it, he would always just drop it off on Jon's desk and close the door behind him. And on top of that, the mugs that left Jon's office were always very clearly empty. Tim was pretty sure that someone would have noticed if Jon was leaving his office to go and pour the content of the mugs down the sink. There was the possibility that Jon had just been begrudgingly drinking whatever tea Martin gave him to be nice, but as much as Tim might have liked Jon, he knew him well enough that that was not something he would bother to spare someone's feelings over if he was displeased with it. Especially not Martin's, it would seem.

So Martin must have asked him at some point. He had to have. It just must have been when Tim wasn't around, that had to be it. Martin would stay late some nights, so he probably just asked Jon about it then. And Jon liked routines, so he probably actually liked Martin bringing him tea right around the same time every afternoon.

The sound of ceramic clinking against his desk pulled Tim from his thoughts, and he turned to see a familiar freckled face grinning down at him.

"Thanks, Martin. Appreciate it."

"No problem." Martin shrugged, bright smile still shining on his face. He then turned, another mug still in his hand, and headed off towards Jon's office.

Watching Martin disappear behind the door, Tim took a long sip from his tea. He might not have had answers to his many tea related questions, but one thing he was certain of was that Martin did make a damn good cup of tea.

* * *

** 2 **

"Hey, Martin, do you have a hair tie on you?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, course Sasha. Here." Martin with his bag for a moment before pulling out a little black hair tie and passing it over to Sasha.

Martin Blackwood did not have long hair.

Shaggy, maybe, but not something Tim would ever really consider to be long. Sasha had long hair. He might even say Jon had long hair. But Martin did not. Not long enough that he would ever need to tie it back that was for sure.

Tim made note of this during their second week in the archive. Sasha had been trying to pull her hair back and the elastic had snapped, and Martin had offered her a new one. This became a regular thing when Sasha would find herself without something to pull her hair back, to the point that Sasha didn't even bother to go digging through her desk drawers of her bag in search of anything anymore, she'd just ask Martin for something. He always had a little stash of hair ties and bobby-pins in his bag. Even kept an elastic on his wrist most of the time.

But Martin didn't have long hair. So it wasn't like he had any use for any of it. He just always had them on him.

It wasn't that big of a deal or anything, just something Tim couldn't help but notice. He'd honestly started thinking about doing it himself. Back when he'd worked in publishing there had been someone in the office who was like that as well; always had extra things stuffed into their desk in case someone might need something.

He couldn't help but wonder what had made Martin start doing it. He knew from many mugs of tea that Martin was just helpful like that, always willing to offer to grab things for you or lend something. He might have started it back when he worked in the library. Tim knew he'd worked there for a while, and he could think of a few people up there who might have use for them. Or maybe he'd had long hair at some point, and he just kept them on him out of habit. He mentioned visiting his mother sometimes, so it was possible that he'd started doing it for her sake. Tim wasn't sure if Martin lived with anyone, but there was also a chance that maybe he was just used to carrying them around for someone else he knew. 

It was convenient, whatever the reason was. Sasha definitely appreciated it.

It was a little strange that Martin went for one of the ones in his bag though. Probably would have been easier to just give her the one on his wrist, would it be? Taking a glance over to Martin, he looked to his hands, and noticed that they were both without that distinctive little black line sitting at the top of either of them. Well, I guess that explained that. He didn't have one on his wrist today. He usually kept one there, but it wasn't unusual for him to not. 

"Tim."

With a small gasp, Tim turned to see Jon standing over his desk.

"What's up, boss?"

"I have a couple cases here that I need you to look into police reports for." Jon handed him a small set of files, "I was hoping to have them back by the end of the week if possible."

"Sure thing. I'll have these back to you ASAP."

"Thank you, Tim." Jon said as he turned to go disappear back into his office. As Tim watched him leave, he couldn't help but notice something.

_Had Jon had his hair up earlier today?_

* * *

**3**

On Monday morning, the sound of the office door opening was quickly followed by a stifled cough as Martin stepped into the room. Tim could see that his cheeks were ever so slightly more flushed than normal, and his nose looked red and chapped. Apart form that he looked ok, but it was still pretty clear he was sick.

"You feeling alright, Martin?" Tim asked cautiously.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine." His voice sounded normal as he responded, despite the coughing, "I had a little cold over the weekend, no big deal. I'm pretty much over it. I don't think I'm contagious anymore, at least, so no need to worry about that. Just keep your distance, maybe, until this bloody cough finally decides to clear up. And until then..." Reaching into his bag, Martin produced a clear bottle with a little pump on top, "I brought some hand sanitize, in case anyone would like some." 

"I...wow, ok. Thanks. That's really considerate." Martin just shrugged as Tim reached out and took a squirt of the sanitizer. Leave it up to Martin get sick and be worried about how everyone else would feel about it, Tim thought to himself. "Are you feeling alright, though? If you needed I can always grab you some tea or something. Or if you needed to go home, I can always tell Jon for you. He can be...well he can be very _him_ , as you know, but he's pretty understanding about these kinds of things. I promise he won't be upset if you need to take the day off."

The pink in Martin's cheeks went a shade darker at the offer, "Oh, no, thank you Tim, but really, I'm fine. The cough is annoying, but other than that I really don't feel sick that anymore. The worst of it was over yesterday, honestly. I do appreciate the offer, but I'm alright."

As the day passed on, it appeared that Martin hadn't been lying. Which was a comfort to Tim, since he had suspected that Martin was just turning down the offer to not feel like a bother, but he did seen to be getting better. His face started to settle back into it's normal hue, and the coughing seemed less and less frequent as the day went on. By Tuesday, the coughing had stopped all together, and Martin looked to be back to his normal self.

The next day day, however, the coughing started back up again, but this time it wasn't from Martin. Tim walked into the archive on Wednesday and was greeted by Jon, doubled over in the breakroom, coughing up a lung. The sound of it echoing thought the halls alone was enough to gather a sympathetic grimace from Tim. Seeing him hunched over, his face buried in the crook of his arm only seemed to confirm how painful it had sounded.

Tim had dealt with Jon being sick at work a few times before, so he knew that this was not going to be pretty. 

True to form, Jon was thoroughly miserable that day, moping around the office, covering up just how poorly he felt with an ever snappier attitude than usual. And however terrible Jon's mood was, he looked even worse. His skin has an ugly, greyish hue to it, the bags under his eyes were on full display, his hair was an absolute mess. That wasn't even to mention how raw and irritate the skin around his nose looked. On top of all of that Tim was starting to worry that it was only a matter of time before he started coughing up blood with the way those things ripped through him.

If he hadn't promised to get these reports to him today, Tim probably would have just left him to wallow in his office like he used to do in research. It was usually just easier to stay out of his way when he was like this. But regular Jon was already enough of a pain when you didn't get work to him on time, he did not want to find out what a sick Jon was like in that situation. When he stepped into his office, the room was lit only by the desk lamp, and Jon was leaning forward in his chair, head clutched in his hands.

"Hey Jon." Tim said, quietly announcing himself.

There was an audible groan as Jon lifted his head to look at him, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke, "What do you need Tim?"

"I just finished with those statements you wanted, so I was just going to drop these off-"

The door creaked open again, and the both turned to see Martin standing in the door way, steaming mug in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Martin mumbled, his shoulders hiked up nervously, "I just, uh...I brought you tea, Jon. I-I put some honey in it today...for your throat. I thought it might help."

God, Jon really was out of it, wasn't he? Tim had to stop himself from laughing at the way that Jon looked at that mug of tea. It was only there for a second, but Tim didn't think he'd ever seen such an openly grateful look from Jon in all the years he'd known him. He was almost inclined to call it affectionate, like that mug of tea was the love of his life. Jon quickly school his expression back to his usual stern look, gingerly reaching out to take the mug from Martin.

"T-thank you Martin. And thank you as well, Tim, for the statements." With that Jon turned his attention to the files on his desk, and Tim and Martin took it as their que to leave.

"Jeez he can be a piece of work when he'd sick." Tim teased as the door shut behind him, "Can't really blame him I guess. He doesn't get sick often, but oh boy, when he gets sick, he gets _sick_. I wonder if he caught whatever you had on Monday."

Martin started at the suggestion, looking nervous suddenly, "O-oh, yeah, um, he might have."

Watching Martin shuffle back to his desk, Tim kicked himself a little internally for his comment. Martin had put so much effort into trying to make sure other people didn't catch his cold, the poor guy probably felt awful as the idea of getting Jon sick.

* * *

** 4 **

Tim knew that Jon was a bit of a weird guy. Not that that was a bad thing, Tim found a lot of his quirks pretty endearing most of the time. But, a little weird nonetheless. And Tim also knew that Jon tended to have his weirdness amplified around new people. It made sense, Jon needed time to get comfortable around new people, so he would seem a bit more stiff and standoffish around then, which was completely understandable.

This crush he had on Martin, though? That was bringing out a whole new kind of strange in him.

It was almost adorable, honestly.

The tea thing, for example, that was pretty strange. Back when they were in research together, Tim would often ask Jon to join him for lunch, or offer to help him with projects that it looked like he'd been having trouble with, and for months he was always met with stubborn refusal. He was never outright rude about it (well, at least Tim was sure he didn't intend to be outright rude about it), but he still didn't seem like he had any plans on accepting. Tim had always just assumed that Jon didn't care for feeling like people were doting on him, that he wanted to feel like he was independent and self sufficient. Maybe it meant that Tim would have to sit back some days and watch Jon work himself half to death, but he had learned to accept that that was just how Jon was.

And then Martin entered the picture. And suddenly Jon is being brought a cup of tea every day without protest. Every so often Tim would overhear a comment from Martin in Jon's office, asking Jon if he'd eaten that day. It was always met with Jon's usual brusqueness, but he'd always see Jon, twenty or thirty minutes later, skulking out of his office and down to the breakroom, returning with lunch in hand. There were even a few times where Tim had witnessed Martin reminding Jon that he was in fact allowed to leave work on time, which is a comment that would usually result in Jon snapping at you insisting that he was fine. And sure, Jon would snap a little are Martin over it, but it never had any bite to it. Not like what Tim was used to, at least. It seemed forced, like he was making himself be upset at the comment.

Then there was the whole touch situation.

Tim hadn't really noticed it until recently, but Jon did not react to Martin touching him in the same way he did to other people at all. Jon liked his personal space, that was clear. With most people Jon looked uncomfortable with anything much more than a handshake. When they'd first met Tim quickly became aware of the way he would flinch at casual, friendly touches, and Tim had made a mental note to keep those to an absolute minimum. He would tolerate them from Tim and Sasha much more now, but they'd both known him for years now.

When Martin would touch him, however, there was not of that apprehension. It was infrequent that they even seemed to touch, both of them seeming pretty careful to avoid it, but those few times that they did, there was none of that discomfort Tim was used to seeing, despite the fact they'd only known each other for a few months.

This realization had hit Tim after the recent incident in document storage with the ladder. When they had heard the crash and gone running, Tim and Sasha had been expecting a mess, someone injured in the worst case scenario, but what they had not thought they'd see was Martin stood there, clutching their boss to his chest like a rag doll. For those few seconds before Tim had pointed it out, Jon had looked...honestly comfortable being held by Martin like that. Jon looking anxious, squirming out of his arms, something like that Tim would have understood, but he hadn't been struggling at all. He just stayed their until Tim mentioned it, and then careful dislodged himself form Martin's grip. That when when it occurred to Tim how strange Jon was being about Martin touching him.

With how little Jon ever talked about his personal life, Tim didn't know what he would have expected Jon to be like when he was interested in someone, but this had not been it. It might have been weird, but Tim had to admit, Jon was honestly pretty adorable when he had a crush.

* * *

**5**

Tim had been told he was observant by plenty of people in his life. He had just always been good at noticing little details about thing. It was certainly a useful trait for a researcher. But as helpful as it could be at times, it also had it's drawbacks. One of the biggest of those drawbacks was that every so often Tim would notice something that he can't stop thinking about. Usually it something that would raise a question, and the only way he could move past the thought was to find some answer for it. It had been happening a lot since they came down to the archive.

For example, today he had ended up with one of these question, and it was driving him nuts. The question being: where on earth had he seen Martin's jumper before?

The obvious answer of course being "Martin has worn it before", but that just wasn't quite right. It was entirely likely that he had seen Martin wearing it before, but that really wasn't what was bothering him. Looking at it he felt sure that he had seen it _somewhere else_ before. 

It must've just been an advertisement. That would make sense. He saw it in some advertisement for ASOS or something. He might not be able to tell you exactly what ad it was, but that made the most sense for where he would have seen it. That should have been the answer he was looking for. Yet he still couldn't get the thought out of his head.

There had to be somewhere else that he knew that jumper from. Or at least one like it. It wasn't like it was an unusual jumper or anything. It was just a nice, navy blue, cable knit jumper. Definitely Martin's style, and it looked good on him, but it wasn't particularly distinctive. There was just something about the damn thing that looked so familiar. 

Someone had to have been wearing a jumper like that recently. Someone who would have stuck out to Tim. He talked to a few people around the institute, so maybe one of them? It wasn't really David's style, though, and he was pretty sure he's never seen Nathan wear a jumper to work. Sasha didn't own anything like that. What was that guy he saw in the shop wearing? No, he'd had on a hoodie, not a knit jumper.

Later that day he walked by Martin going over something with Jon in the hallway, and...

_Oh_

Now it clicked.

The image came flooding back to him. Jon standing at the edge of Tim's desk, just a week ago, in a piece of knitwear that was probably five or so sizes too big for him, the sleeves hanging down over his hands, the hemline almost long enough on him that he could have worn it as a dress. And that jumper had been navy blue, cable knit, just like Martin's. 

Tim had to stifle a laugh when the thought came to him. There was just something so strangely entertaining to him about the idea that Martin had what appeared to be the exact same jumper as Jon's ex-boyfriend did. Jon apparently had a type, it seemed.

* * *

**+1**

Walking down the street away from the coffee shop, Tim quickly pulled out his phone.

'Hi Tim. What's up? Everything alright?" Sasha sounded concerned on the other end of the call. It was rare that he actually called her instead of texting, so he could understand why.

"Hey Sash, don't worry everything is fine." Tim assured her, "Are you free right now?"

"Uh, yeah, I am. My appointment ended hours ago so...why?"

"Do you want to have drinks?" He started making his way towards the tube, his mind already sending him in the direction of Sasha's flat, "I...I really need to tell you about the conversation I just had."

He arrived at her place soon enough, and she welcomed him in with obvious curiosity. He didn't tell her anything over the phone, so he started right from the top. He told her about how Martin had come back (she was excited about that), and what he had said about the worms (she was much less excited about this). Then he told her about Jon. And how he had reacted. The way he had practically launched himself at Martin the second he stepped through the door. How he didn't let go of him until they got to the coffee shop. The comments he had made to Martin.

And he told her about the conversation he had with the two of them. And what he had learned about the two of them.

When he got through everything, he dropped his head, hiding his face in his hands, "Sasha, I feel like such an idiot."

"No, no, you're not an idiot." She said, stroking a soothing hand down his back, "They honestly did a pretty good job of hiding it."

"I know, but...but...but it was all there!" He sat up and threw his hands up, gesturing into the air, "I have been talking to you for months, goddamn months - pretty much since we started working in the archive - about all these weird things I've been noticing. I know I've talked to you about how weird Jon has been, and about all the things I've picked up between him and Martin. It was all right there in front of me. And I missed it!"

"I didn't connect the dots either, Tim, it's ok. We really didn't have any actual reason to suspect that they were married."

Tim leaned back dramatically, putting on as forlorn a look as he could, "Nope, it's over for me. I've lost my touch. My mind is withering away. I'm old and decrepit. I have to quit, Sasha, I have to retire from research, I just can't keep up anymore."

"For the love of god, Tim." Sasha gave a longsuffering sigh, "Look, Martin is a really good liar, and Jon...well he stayed out of the way, really. You missed this one thing, so what? It's just one little thing, not a big deal. Certainly nothing to be so dramatic over."

Pausing to glare at her for a second over that last remark, Tim let out a huff of breath, sitting back up, "Alright, fine, you're right. I'm still pissed that I didn't figure this out soon, though."

"Fair enough." Sasha laughed, giving his knee a pat. She went quiet for a second, and her face visible dropped, "And, um, I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you sooner."

"What? No, Sasha, it's ok. I completely understand that. I'm not upset about that in the slightest, don't worry about it. And I am definitely not upset with you." He smiled, "It's...I think I'm still just trying to take it all it, really. Get my brain all caught up with everything that just happened, you know? Hell, part of the reason I wanted to talk to you about this is because I'm not sure I even fully believe it's all _real_ yet."

She nodded, sucking in a breath through her teeth, "God, it is a shock to the system, though, isn't it? I still remember the feeling I had when I found out. I was honestly even more surprised than when I realized Jon was the youngest person working in the archive."

"I'm sorry, he's _what_!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I do want to make it very clear that I do think Tim is very smart and very practical and I love him, but I also fully believe that he would be the kind of person to miss something like this because he just never even through to consider it being a possibility. Like he'd look at the situation and be like "hmm, this sure is some weird behavior from my pal Jon, who I am absolutely certain is completely single and has never made any indication of involved in any kind of romantic relationship. Sure wish I knew what this was about" or "wow, Martin, my happily married coworker, sure is such a nice person :) it's so nice of him to do stuff like bring Jon tea every day and make sure he's eating :) he's just such a nice person :)"


	5. He's Deceptively Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the breakroom, Tim has a idea of how to pass some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what prossessed me to write this but here it is. It is probably the shortest things I'm going to write for one of these chapters. It is DEFINITELY the stupidest thing I am going to do for one of these chapters. But the idea popped into my head and I suddenly felt the need to write this. Publishing this now because I'm still procrastinating on the next chapter for this (it should be up in the next few days hopefully), and this was done so why not.  
> But basically the idea for this comes from the fact that I am a Strong Martin Truther. The man has absolutely no cardio but I fully believe he was the strongest person in that archive, with only like Daisy maybe rivaling him. It is such a dumb headcanon but you will have to pry it from my cold dead hands before I give it up.  
> Enjoy!

“Come on, Martin, just a little friendly competition.” Tim said with an adamant whine, taking a seat near Martin at the breakroom table.

“Tim, I’m really not sure-“

“You’re being ridiculous, Tim.” Sasha sighed before Martin could finish.

“It’ll be fun.” He insisted in response.

Sasha gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “Arm wrestling? Seriously? How old are you?”

“What, a man in his mid thirties is no longer allowed to arm wrestle his good friend? Is that a rule now?”

“God, I can’t believe you something. I’m not going to be the one to call an ambulance when you hurt yourself.”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on in here?” A voice asked from the entrance to the room, startling the three assistants. They turned to see Jon standing there, his usual stern expression on his face.

“Tim is trying to get Martin to arm wrestle with him.” Sasha informed him in an exasperated tone.

“Oh.” Jon said plainly. The other three waited in silence for a few seconds for him to say something more, but he didn’t move from his spot in the entrance other than to lean against the wall slightly.

“A-aren’t you going to stop them?” Sasha eventually asked him.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I want to watch this.” There was another heavy sigh from Sasha following this response, along with a triumphant noise from Tim.

“Alright, now we have to do this Martin, come on. Jon wants to see it, can’t disappoint him.” Tim positioned his elbow on the table, holding his hand out towards him.

Shaking his head, Martin began to undo the button on his sleeve cuff “Ok, fine, I’ll do it.”

“And don’t worry, I’m a very gracious winner. I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of your husband too much.” He added, a cocky smile twisting across his face.

Martin suddenly got very serious, his mouth in a hard line and his brows raised. In one fluid motion he pushed his sleeve up his arm, and placed his elbow into position on the table with a bit more force than was really necessary, all while never breaking eye contact with Tim. From the other side of the room, they could just hear as Jon muttered under his breath something that sounded like “good luck”.

Tim laced their hands together, letting out a steadying breath, “Ready?”

Martin nodded, his eyes still cold and locked on Tim.

“Go.”

The cheep table shook slightly as the two of them began. Leaning forward, hands gripped tight together they barely moved from their starting position, their arms still half way between them. They seemed to be evenly matched, neither ever quite getting much of a lead on the other. Ever so often Tim would manage to get a little movement in his favour, but Martin would quickly gain it back. They stayed like that for just over a minute, arms beginning to shake, palms sweating and threatening to slip, but both held their ground. As the clock continued to tick on Tim could feel himself starting to wear down slightly, and Martin looked like he was beginning to get tired as well.

“I’ll give it to you, Martin, you’re strong.” Tim said, trying to hide the strain in his words, “But, hate to tell you, we’ve got a bit of a Princess Bride situation on our hands.”

“Is that so?” Martin questioned, in a much steadier voice.

“Yes, because you see, I’ve taking it easy so far.” With that Tim gave it everything he had. It was slow, but surely and steadily Martin’s arm began to drop. Just a little bit more and he-

“You know, Tim, you’re actually right about this being like Princess Bride.”

“Yeah?”

A wide grin spread across Martin’s face, “I’ve been taking it easy on you, too.”

“You wha-“

Before Tim hand any time to properly react, he felt his arm moving against his will, very quickly. Martin pinned Tim’s arm to the table fast enough that it nearly threw Tim out of his chair along with it. For a few seconds Tim sat there, half slumped against the table, trying to regain his composure.

The room was quite as Tim sat back up, looking on in awe at Martin, who looked far too pleased with himself. Sasha matched his awed expression, staring at the two of them in disbelief. Jon, meanwhile, was grinning almost dreamily at Martin, looking like he had thoroughly enjoyed the show.

“Jesus Christ, Martin.” Tim huffed, finally breaking the silence.

“Nobody ever expects the fat guy to be strong.” Martin shrugged, “It can be pretty fun to surprise people with it.”

“I’d say.” Sasha chimed in, still captivated by what she’d just seen, “Martin that was…that was incredible.”

“Wasn’t it just.” Jon murmured, his voice thick with affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin: *nearly throws his coworker through a table*  
> Jon: "You're doing great sweetie :)"  
> Yes Jon being absolutely in love with how strong Martin is is a part of my strong Martin headcanon. Seriously though, I have no idea why I couldn't get the idea of Tim challenging Martin to an arm wrestling match and just getting completely wrecked was stuck in my head, but here it is, I hope you had some fun with it lol
> 
> Oh, and, going to do a bit of self promo here, I just recently posted the second chapter of a new fic. It's heavier than the ones in this series, but still TMA (and I promise it will have a happy ending lol), so if you wanted to check that one out it called Rewinding The Tapes.


	6. The Way to A Man's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin, Jon, and adventures with cooking
> 
> Set sometime in 2011 (a bit less than a year since they started dating, lets say)  
> CW for food, knives (for cooking purposes), brief mentions of poverty, very brief mentions of alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by a comment from Rosemarycat5 that suggested Jon and Martin cooking. Sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this, I hope you like how it turned out! And it's out on Valentines Day, too, how perfect hahaha

Martin had never had a particularly great relationship with food. It wasn't that he had a bad relationship with food, per se, but it definitely wasn't he favourite thing in the world. It had just always felt like more of a necessity than a pleasure really, sometime he needed to stay alive rather than something he found any real excitement in. Some days it certainly felt like a chore, cooking and eating and all that, but most of the time it was all just unremarkable. 

He had once summed his relationship with food up to himself that it was less like that aunt that you pointedly avoided seeing unless you had no other choice to, and more like that cousin that, sure, you get on fine with them, but you just never actually got that close. Not a specifically negative relationship, but not one that was terribly important to you, either.

It had been like this for as long as he could remember. Growing up, they'd never had the money to splurge on anything too fancy, so it had always been practical food for them, stuff that would keep well and could be spread pretty far if needed. This had become even more the case after his mother started to get sick and his dad left. She didn't have the energy to put into making anything too elaborate, and when Martin had to take over cooking more in more, he didn't have the skills for it. It was always easy things after that. He would have liked to maybe make something nicer than one of a few variants on meat and potatos, but he didn't know how, and there wasn't anyone to teach him. His mother had showed him the basics, enough that he was able to prepare simple things for the two of them, but never much past that. And if they had needed to save on food before, they certainly did now. It always felt wrong to Martin to be wishing you had something nicer to eat when you had rent to worry about.

That attitude had stuck with him even after his mother moved into the care home. He considered it a good attitude to have as an adult just starting off on your own. He had more important things to spend his money on expensive meals that he didn't actually need. Ready meals and canned food were perfectly fine in his book. Practical. Maybe he had a little more money to spend on things since he started working at the Magnus Institute, but his diet worked for him so far, so he saw no reason to change it. 

That was, until he met Jon. Because damn could that man cook.

Jon had made dinner for them plenty of times now, and each time was better than the last in Martin's opinion. He'd made a couple of dishes Martin hadn't even heard of before, and some that Martin did know, but had definitely never tasted that good. Even the presentation of it was always beautiful, showing off just how much care was put into it. Martin might have been a little biased, since it was Jon who had made them, but he was inclined to say that it was those were the best meals he had even had. 

"How is it?" Jon asked from across his tiny dining table. He rolled his fork nervously between his fingers, clearly hoping for a positive review. Martin was more than happy to provide him with one.

"It's incredible." Martin mumbled between mouthfuls, "Delicious. Like it always it."

A smile lit up Jon's whole face at that, "Oh, good. I hoped you would like it."

"I don't know why you always seem so nervous about it." Martin swallowed down another bite, "You're an amazing cook. You have literally never made me anything that I haven't loved."

The faintest ting of blush began to darken Jon's cheeks, "I'm glad to hear it."

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon always seemed to be humble over the strangest things, he found. "I've been meaning to ask; where did you even learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother taught me, actually." Jon responded, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, "There weren't many things she insisted on when I was growing up, but she was adamant that I knew how to cook. I think I was maybe...seven or so the first time handed me a kitchen knife and put me to work chopping vegetables."

The image of Jon as a child popped into Martin's mind; standing at a kitchen counter that was probably too tall for him, trying to maneuver a kitchen knife that probably too big for his little hands. He could so clearly imagine the determined look that seven year old Jon probably had trying to be as precise as he could while he chopped. The thought of it is a little ridiculous, but Martin would be lying if he said he didn't think it also sounded pretty adorable. What he wouldn't give to have pictures of it.

Pulling himself out of his daydream, Martin gave his head a small shake, smile still plastered across his face, "That's really sweet. Must have been nice to have quality time like that with her."

"Yes...I guess it was. She was never terribly involved in my life, but...it was nice to spend that time with her." Jon shrugged. He looked lost in the memory of it for a moment, eye staring off into nothing. Jon had told him a few stories from his childhood being raised by his grandmother, so Martin knew that though she wasn't the most motherly figure - cold was a word Jon had once used - Jon was still fond of her. 

"Her efforts were certainly worth it." Martin commented lightheartedly. Then his own mind began to wander as well, his gaze drifting down to the beautifully prepared dish in front of him, "I wish someone had taught me to cook like this."

The comment snapped Jon out of his own reminiscing, and he turned back to Martin, "Oh?"

"Yeah, my mum wasn't really...she, um, she taught me the basics, how to use a stove and not give myself food poisoning and all that, but not much else." Martin said with a quiet, humorless laugh, "I'm out of practice at this point, honestly. I don't really cook much anymore. Like, I'd love to be able to make you something like this, but..."

"Martin." A hand reached out from across the table, taking hold of his wrist. When Martin looked up from his plate, Jon was looking back at him with a soft, almost apologetic expression, "You know you don't need to do anything for me. I cook for you because I enjoy doing it, not because I expect something in return."

Moving his own hand, he slipped out of Jon's grip just enough so he was able to lace their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze as he did, "I know, I know. I'm not saying that I feel like I owe you or anything. But I...I want to be able to do things like cook for you. And I wish I had the skills to do it, but I just...don't."

Jon had the slightest frown now, and Martin regretted having said anything. He always hated bringing the mood down like this. It was just that none of this had never really bothered Martin before, but now it was all starting to hit him. Sitting here, enjoying Jon's wonderful cooking, hearing about how his grandmother had taught him these things, it made him feel...insecure wasn't quite the right word. Sad maybe. Sad that he never got to have those experiences as a kid. Sad that he didn't have any skills like cooking that he could do something for Jon with. He knew he didn't have to repay Jon for any of this, but was it so wrong to want to do something nice for your boyfriend in return?

"I could...I could always teach you."

Jon's voice startled Martin back to attention, "What?"

"If you wanted to learn to cook, I could always teach you." Jon repeated, sounding a little more sure of himself this time, "You said you think I'm a good cook, and I enjoy cooking, so why not? I think it could be fun."

Maybe it was just all the emotions that had already been stirred up in his mind, or maybe it was just that he had never had someone offer to do this for him before, but the suggestions sent a wave of affection thought Martin. He could feel his face growing warm, along with his chest, and he tightened his grip on Jon's hand, ever so slightly, "I think that sounds fun too."

"How about Saturday?" Jon suggested eagerly, "You could come here, we can make something together; make a whole evening out of it."

Martin pulled his hand that was still holding Jon's towards him, placing a kiss on the back of Jon's hand, "It's a date."

* * *

Martin knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on his feet. Why did he suddenly feel so nervous? Jon said he wasn't going to do anything too complicated with him. And it wasn't like Jon was just going to leave him by himself to do it, he was teaching him, he was going to help. He knew he wasn't that helpless in the kitchen. He knew the basics. He just didn't want to mess anything up too badly, that was all. Didn't want to ruin anything. Didn't want to disappoint Jon. 

"Are you seriously spiraling out over cooking?" Martin whispered to himself, sighing heavily.

The door opened a second later, Jon standing on the other side with a cheery expression, "Ah, Martin, right on time."

"And I brought wine." Martin smiled, pulling the dark green glass bottle out of the small bag he was holding.

"Well, aren't we trying to make a good impression tonight?" Jon teased, "Maybe I ought to teach you things more often."

After stealing a quick kiss, Martin stepped into the now familiar apartment. It was a comfortable place, Martin found, despite how spartan is was. Or, at least, how spartan would have seemed were it not for the clutter of books and paperwork that covered most surfaces. As soon as Martin had removed his shoes, Jon ushered him into his modest little kitchen. It wasn't quite big enough for two people, but they would make it work. Neither of them minded the proximity much, though.

"So, what's on the menu tonight?" Martin asked, leaning against the counter.

Jon opened up a cabinet, grabbing a box from it. He held it up towards Martin, giving it a few rattling shakes for emphasis, "Pasta."

"Ooo, pasta will be good."

"I thought it would be nice." Setting the box down on the counter next to Martin, Jon moved to the fridge to begin grabbing ingredients, "And I thought it would be a good thing to try to make, as well. I'm not sure exactly how much of a beginner you are with cooking, but I figured Bolognese would be a good place to start."

"Sounds good to me." Martin grinned, "So, what's our first step?"

Shutting the fridge, Jon stepped over towards Martin and haphazardly dropped a small pile of vegetables onto the counter. Martin just managed to reach out in time to stop an onion from rolling onto the floor. A knife, cutting board, and a bowl were then placed beside the vegetables, and Jon gestured to his little setup, "Chopping. Lots of chopping."

Martin picked up the knife with a nod, "Alright. What shall I do first."

Jon looked at the vegetables for a moment, then slid the stalks of celery towards Martin, "Start with these. I'll peel the carrots while you do that. Try and dice the pieces as evenly as you can."

With another nod, Martin got to work splitting the stalks down the middle and beginning to chop them up. He moved slow at first, trying to mind the size, but after the first few cuts he fell into a steadier rhythm with it. Still not particularly fast, but he never had the best knife skills, so it was good to practice. As he finished with the first stalk he felt Jon brush against him, placing the now peeled carrots down onto the counter.

"That looks perfect. You finish up with those, and I'll be right back."

He listened to Jon pad out of the kitchen and off into some other part of the flat. Martin turned his attention back to dicing, finishing the second stalk and moving the cut pieces into the bowl beside him, when suddenly music began to play softly in the background. Something gentle and instrumental that Martin couldn't quite place, though he definitely liked it. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Jon smiling as he watched form the other side of the kitchen, "I though we might enjoy a bit of ambiance."

Martin smiled back at him, warm and affectionate. Jon joined him at his side once again, looking over what he'd done so far.

"Everything look good so far?" Martin asked.

"Yes, everything looks just right. And no fingers need bandaging, which is also good." Jon teased, which Martin promptly responded to with a roll of his eyes "Genuinely though, that looks great. Now, carrots next, they get diced up pretty much the same."

These went much quicker, Martin feeling much for confident with his skills now. Jon stayed close to his side, leaning against the counter, giving the occasional pointer. Once he was finished with those Jon stepped in closer, reaching for the onion that was sitting next to the cutting board. 

"Alright, onion next." He held it up between the two of them, "Do you know how to properly dice one, or would you like me to show you."

Martin regarded the things for a second before setting the knife down and taking a step to the side, "Would you mind showing me, actually?"

"Gladly." Jon smiled, positioning himself in front of the cutting board, "I'll do the first half, and then you can do the second."

He proceeded to cut the onion down the middle, placing one half to the side, and beginning to work on the other. Martin found himself strangely captivated watching Jon work, almost wanting to describe it was artistic. His hands moved with such well practiced sureness as he peeled back the papery skin, and began to place a series of cuts down through the onion. It was so clear that this was something that he had done countless times before, the task seeming so effortless to him that his look quiet peaceful doing it. Martin just stood back and admired him, the focused tilt to his head, the slightly hunched position of his shoulders, the delicate way his finger wrapped around the knife and held the onion in place. He listened intently while Jon gave a quick explication of what he was doing as made a lateral cut through the onion, and Martin couldn't help but think about how the way Jon's hands moved reminded him vaguely of a painter. 

If Martin hadn't been paying such close attention to Jon, he knew he likely would have felt embarrassed about how hopelessly smitten he was right now.

Jon chopped up the last of his half of the onion, moving the pieces of to one side of the cutting board, and handing the knife back to Martin. Martin attempted to copy what he'd just watched Jon do so closely, making the same little cuts to divide up the onion before dicing it completely. His slices ended up notably less even, his hands much less steady holding the knife, but Jon assured him that he was doing wonderfully, so he happily pressed on. 

As Martin finished with the vegetables, Jon grabbed a saucepan and set it up on the stove, "So, now we start with the actual cooking bit. How are you with sautéing?"

"I, uh, I might have a bit of a habit of burning things." Martin said bashfully, "Might have had to replace one or...several pots I've ruined before."

"Right, well, it's a good thing you have an extra pair of eyes to help you today." Jon chuckled as he pulled a small bottle of vegetable oil. He carefully poured a small amount into the pot, watching to make sure he eyeballed the right measurement. After he finished with that, he returned the bottle to it's spot, and turned on the stove, "I've added maybe half a tablespoon of oil, so now we wait for that to heat up."

Martin tried not to flinch too visibly when, a minute later, Jon waved a hand above the hot oil to feel for the heat of it. Jon might have been taught to cook by an old woman, and Martin trusted he knew what he was doing, but Martin had also ended up for more than a few tiny burns from popping oil and pans that he had forgotten were hot, and those were enough to still make him nervous. But Jon pulled his hand away unscathed and gave a small nod, then took out a polystyrene tray of meat form the fridge, and handed it to Martin along with a wooden spatula. 

"So, what you're going to do is brown the meat first, and then we'll get back to the vegetables." Jon said, waving him over towards the stove. Martin did as he was told, opening up the plastic wrapping and tossing the mince into the pan. It made a loud sizzling sound when it hit the hot oil, and Martin did his best to ignore that seed of nervousness about either the food or himself getting burn as he started to stir it around. He realized he must not have done quite as good a job was he hope at hiding it when Jon leaned in a little closer and said, "I can always take over if you need me to."

"No, I think I'm fine for now. Thank you, though." He responded, trying to regain his confidence. He relaxed slightly when he felt Jon's hand rest against the small of his back, and the slight press of Jon's body against his side. 

"Good. You're doing great, but I just thought I'd offer." Jon smiled, pressing a kiss to Martin's shoulder.

The meat was soon browned (and none of it was burn, as Jon made sure to point out), and so they moved on to the vegetables. Onions were first, shortly followed by the rest of what they had chopped, and some garlic that Jon pressed straight into the pan.

"Oh my god, this smells good." Martin sighed as the aromatic steam filled the air in the little kitchen.

"The wonders of onion and garlic." Jon laughed quietly.

Martin was left with the pan for a moment, stirring around the vegetables, mixing the mince back in, while Jon went and grabbed the last few ingredients and got them ready for Martin to add. Jon described all the things he was doing out of Martin's line of sight, thought Martin was only half listening. Instead he found himself getting lost in the moment, savoring it. The warmth of the kitchen emphasized by the golden light of the sun beginning to set filtering in thought the window, the smells that surrounded him making his stomach start to growl, Jon's voice in the background mixing with the quiet music making both of them more seem all the more melodic. Martin couldn't even find it in him to be nervous about messing up the sauce anymore. For a good part of his life, moments like these had felt like something that he would only ever get to dream of. A moment that was just so cozy, so domestic. Moments like these seemed to happen a lot with Jon. Martin thought he could definitely get used to having these moments more.

Jon came back to the stove, brining the measured out ingredients with him. He instructed Martin on which one to add first, which came next, how long to wait between them, how he should stir them in. Martin followed along with what he said dutifully, actually paying attention to what Jon was saying this time. It was easier to listen to him now, though, as once he'd brought everything to Martin, he returned to the position he had taken earlier, pressed into Martin's side, one arm around Martin's back, and his head resting on his shoulder. Ever so often Martin would jostle Jon a bit as he stirred, but Jon continued to cling.

Martin gave a fond, breathy laugh, "You know, I'm not sure if this is the _most_ helpful position to be in while teaching someone how to cook."

"Would you prefer if I moved?" The words were muffled, as they were spoken into fabric of Martin's shirt, but the teasing edge could still be heard clearly.

"No. I can work with this." Martin said, leaning his weight against Jon a little more.

They stayed like that as Martin stirred the last of the ingredients Jon had passed him, stirring the whole thing together, and leaving it to simmer like Jon told him to. He told him they'd have a little while to wait while it cooked, so they got started with with clearing some of the dishes out of the way. Less fun that cooking, certainly, but somehow ever this felt more enjoyable doing it together. 

Martin could hear Jon quietly humming along with music as they passed things to each other, and noticed the way he would gently sway with the beat of it. When the last of the dishes were put in the skin, rinsed and left to be worried about later, Martin took hold of Jon's hands and began to sway along with him. Jon laughed a little at first, obviously not expecting the impromptu slow dance, but quickly fell into step with Martin, pulling himself in closer. At one point Martin felt daring enough to dip Jon, bending down with him to press a soft kiss to his lips. Neither of them could help but giggle after that, smiling at one another in a way that they felt that they didn't even have to say it aloud.

"I love you." Martin whispered anyway.

"I love you, too." Jon beamed, moving in even closer to rest his head against Martin's chest.

That song finished, and the next one began, and the two of them continued to sway, holding each other close.

* * *

Martin waited with bated breath, watching as Jon took his first bite. He hadn't been able to touch his own food yet, despite how his stomach was growling. He now understood why Jon always felt the need to ask him how he liked the food whenever he cooked.

"So, how is it?"

Jon swallowed his mouthful, and a smile came across his face that Martin cautiously identified as looking proud. Without saying anything, Jon gestured towards Martin's plate, and Martin took his own carful first bite.

"Oh my god." Martin almost gasped, eyes wide, "It's actually good!"

"It's excellent, Martin." Jon raised his wine glass to Martin in a toast, and Martin brought his own glass to meet it, "You did wonderfully."

Martin could feel his face begin to flush, "Thank you. I really couldn't have done it without such an amazing teacher."

At that Jon's smile went even wider, forming those little crinkles at the corner of his eye that Martin loved so much. They didn't talk for a few minutes after that, as they began to really tuck into their meals. Sure, maybe it wasn't the _best_ pasta Martin had ever had, but it was still good. Very good, in fact, if you asked Martin. Jon certainly looked like he agreed. He sat up taller in his seat, letting himself enjoy his little moment of pride.

"Really, Martin, I am impressed." Jon commented after a few more bites, "You made it sound like you didn't know what you were doing in the kitchen at all. You shouldn't sell yourself so short."

"Honestly, Jon, I expected to do much worse than this. Usually I'm completely hopeless when it comes to cooking." Martin said, shaking his head, "I wasn't kidding about ruining those pots and pans, earlier. I genuinely did not expect this to go this well."

"Well, I'm glad that it did turn out this way." Jon laughed, "Maybe I just picked something too easy for you."

Martin quirked an eyebrow, "Oh? Should I expect a bigger challenge next time?"

Jon gave a considering hum, clearly not being serious with it, "Maybe next time I'll try to teach you to bake something."

That comment caught Martin slightly off guard, startling him out of his teasing, "Wait, you bake?"

"Maybe." Jon shrugged, wearing an expression that tread the line somewhere between smug and flirting.

"Ok, I know you were joking, but we are absolutely baking something together next time." Martin stated excitedly, "You bake, and as your boyfriend, I have a right to baked goods."

There was a new look on Jon's face now, something softer, looking almost curious when matched with the slight tilt of his head, "So you _would_ like to do this again?"

Martin felt that blush start to creep back onto his face, "Yeah. I'd really love it if we did this again. This was fun."

Jon's eye flickered down to look at the table, "Good. I'd really enjoy that too."

They finished the rest of their meals over easy conversation, and let the night linger on. Martin stayed the night, as he often did these days, crawling into bed next to Jon as though it was the most natural thing for him to do. The next day, as Martin got ready to leave, he discussed his plans with Jon for next Saturday. He wondered what recipe Jon would pick for them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I cook a lot. I love cooking. It is one of my favourite things to do, and I'm told I'm quite good at it. But oh my good god when I tell you my head was completely empty when I tried to things of what to have these two cook, I seriously forgot every recipe I have ever looked at. Seriously, the only things I could think of were chili and bread (which are great, and things I make a lot and love making, but they just didn't have the vibe, you know?). FYI I sorta mostly based this Bolognese recipe off the one from Basics with Babish on youtube, along with a few others I briefly looked at from the first few google results, because for some reason I decided to have them make something I actually almost never make lol.  
> Also I've been going back through a few of the chapters of Nobody Needs to Know, and oh my god I found some to the stupidest mistakes and it's terrible haha. Just straight up using the wrong words in places, and for some reason I had the complete wrong year in my head for when Tim stated at the Institute while I was writing it (much of this has now been fix lol). So if you remember any of the dumb mistakes I made, at least a few of them have now been remedied


	7. Plus One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgie asks Melanie for a bit of a weird favor
> 
> Set 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the end notes of chapter 15 of Nobody Needs to Know I made a comment about how because they would have needed witnesses for their wedding, Jon and Martin would have asked Georgie and "some other unnamed person". While, I've made a decision on the unnamed person. It was Melanie. They asked Georgie and just told her to bring someone else and she brought Melanie. That's what I'm working with for this chapter because it entertains me for some reason, and that's I'm going for with these things.

"Oh you _stupid fucking_..." Melanie smacked a hand against her laptop, knowing full well it wasn't going to make it work any faster. But hey, she'd tried everything else, why not a bit of percussive maintenance.

Of all the times for her laptop to start acting up, of course it had to be now. This episode was due out on Thursday, and it felt like there was still so much work that needed to be done and _naturally_ no one else was available to do it, so she was stuck scrambling to try and finish all this editing by herself. And the whole thing wouldn't have been so bad if her computer couldn't smell fear. Whenever she really needed it, that seemed to be the exact moment it decided to stop working properly. 

She was about ready to throw the whole thing against a wall when the sound of her phone ringing distracted her from her anger spiral.

"Who the hell is calling me?" She hissed out through her teeth. It was probably just someone else on the crew calling to let her know that she would have even more work piled onto her plate. Grabbing her phone, she flipped it over to look at the caller ID. When she saw the name on the screen, however, she suddenly forgot all about her previous anger, and quickly answered the call, "Georgie! Hey, hi, w-what's up?"

"Hey Melanie." Georgie's voice came out in that wonderful, cheery cadence of hers from the other end of the call, "You're not busy right now, are you?"

"No, no, not busy at all." Melanie said, quietly shutting her laptop.

"Oh good!" She could practically hear Georgie smiling. It made her heart flutter more than it really have any right to, "I'm actually calling because I have a bit of a favor to ask you about."

"Yeah, sure, what can I do for you? I'm always happy to help." Melanie cringed a little at herself, hoping that her voice hadn't sounded quite as overly eager to Georgie as it did to her.

"Ok, so, I've told you about my ex from uni, right? Jon? We dated for like a year and a half; he did English Lit?" Georgie asked. Melanie was almost embarrassed at how much the mention of Georgie's ex made her deflate. 

"The weird one who was in the band and started going grey at, like, 19?"

"Yeah, that's him." Georgie exclaimed fondly, "I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago-"

"Wait, I thought you said you two haven't talked since you graduated?" As soon as she asked the question, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you there."

Georgie chuckled warmly, "Don't worry about. And no, I haven't really _talked_ in a while, but there'll be the rare message here and there, I have him on Facebook and stuff - even if, you know, he really doesn't ever use it - so it's not like we fell completely out of touch. Anyway, he just called me, and turns out, he's getting married."

"Um...cool. That's cool." She really hoped that sounded convincingly interested. That was great news for him, but Melanie was trying to figure out what exactly this had to do with her.

"I'm really happy for him. But, the thing is, I guess him and his fiancé are in a bit of a weird situation." Georgie began to explain, "See, they work at the same place, and I guess there's this crazy fraternization policy there that means they can't be open about their relationship there, and this becomes a problem because I guess, like, almost everyone they know also works with them. Then, on top of that, Jon, sadly, doesn't have any living relatives left, and apparently his fiancé also doesn't really have any family can come either, although that I'm not sure what exactly the situation is there. And I'm rambling now, but anyway, my point is, they needed some people to come so that they have all the proper witnesses and stuff, and Jon just asked me if I would be able to come."

"Alright." Melanie said, still unsure of where Georgie was going with this, "I'm guessing you said yes?"

"I did, and this leads me to my favor." Georgie pauses, and Melanie could have sworn she heard her take a deep breath, "I agreed to go to their wedding, but they still need another person, and were hoping I could...help them out with that. So, I was wondering if maybe you would be interested in joining me?"

All Melanie heard for a few seconds is the pounding of her overeager heart, before realizing that it's now her turn to speak, "I uh, y-yeah, yeah sure! I can absolutely go with you."

Georgie breathed a sigh of relief, "Wonderful. It's on Saturday. I know you have an new episode going up this Thursday, so I made sure it wouldn't conflict with that."

Annoyingly, Melanie's heart skipped another beat at that. It didn't mean anything, or course, Georgie was just nice like that. They talked about upload schedules and editing and things like that all the time, so of course she would have would have only asked Melanie if it didn't conflict with something like that. Probably would have just found someone else to ask if it had conflicted with her deadlines. Who knows, maybe she even did ask someone else, and she'd just gone far enough down her list of friends to have to ask Melanie.

Shaking her head to break herself out of that train of thought, Melanie stammered out a quick, "T-thanks. I really appreciate that."

"Of course. I know how important the show is to you. _And_ , I also know how annoying editing is. I wouldn't want to make that any worse for you." A kind little laugh slipped out of Georgie, and it was the kind of laugh that Melanie just couldn't help but respond to with one of her own, "I'm really glad you can come though. It's not going to be anything fancy, but if you wanted you could always come over to mine to get ready. Might make things easier. We can travel together that way."

"That would be great." Melanie chirped excitedly.

"Perfect." Georgie replied, sounding equally pleased "It's a date."

* * *

Pulling out her phone, Melanie turned on the camera to check her lipstick. This shade of pink wasn't a colour she would have usually gone for with lipstick, but Georgie told her it matched her hair. Melanie was more than a little embarrassed about how easily Georgie could sway her like that, but she wasn't complaining; it was a good colour on her. She swiped her thumb at a spot on the corner of her mouth that looked smudged, making sure to be careful as the taxi started to move again. 

"So," Melanie began, looking across to Georgie and she dropped her phone back in her lap, "Is there anything else I should know before we get there?"

Georgie looked up from where she'd been texting Jon. Her lips pursed a moment, and she made a small, considering hum as she thought on it. After a few seconds, she grimaced slightly, and turned to meet Melanie's eye, "Oh, yes, actually there is something. More likely than not it won't come up, but you might not want to mention that you do Ghost Hunt UK to Jon."

"What, why?" Melanie paused for a moment before her eye brows pulled together and she shot Georgie a suspicious glance, "Wait. He's not one of those damn high and mighty sceptic types, is he?"

"No, he's not..." Georgie assured her. She shifted awkwardly in her seat before mumbling in a slightly too high voice, "He just likes to pretend that he is."

Groaning loudly, Melanie threw her head back against the head rest, "Oh God. Is it too late to back out of this?"

"Yes." Georgie stated dryly, poking Melanie's arm in a clear attempt to raise her spirits once again. "Jon gets really weird about ghosts and supernatural stuff, I think the whole logic and reason thing is just his way to cope with it. He can be...abrasive sometimes, and especially about stuff like that, but as long as you don't make a big deal about it he won't pick a fight. Honestly, I swear that it won't come up unless you bring it up. I know how much you care about the show, but it's his wedding, so please just play nice."

"Ugh. Fine, I promise I'll be on my best behavior today." Melanie rolled her eyes, her voice fully of fake exasperation that was made all the less convincing by the way she was smiling at Georgie. 

Georgie patted a hand against her knee, "If you ever meet him again you can toss him out of his ivory tower to your heart's content."

"What about the fiancé? What's their name..."

"Martin. I'm not really sure actually." Georgie said with a shrug, "I've never met him before. He sent me a message after I agreed to come thanking me, and he seemed nice then. Jon certainly seems to think he's wonderful."

"Well, as long as he doesn't bring up ghosts, then, we should all be fine." 

The two of them continued to chat on about not much at all until the taxi arrived at the address they were to meet up at a few minutes later. They stepped out into the buzz of Saturday afternoon activity, and Georgie immediately started to crane her neck in search of the happy couple. It occurred to Melanie that she probably should have asked to see a picture of them, so that she could have tried to look for them as well. After a few seconds of looking Georgie grabbed Melanie by the hand, leading her her through the flow of bodies to try and find them, and Melanie let herself be pulled along more than willingly. It was another minute before Georgie perked up, shaking Melanie and pointing over to where two men in suits were standing. They were pressed close together, hand in hand, and looked like they were excitedly muttering to each other. 

"Jon!" Georgie called out to them, waving. The shorter of the two men turned waving back and started walking in their direction, the taller following at his side. When they all reach each other Georgie wrapped her arms around the man Melanie figured out to be Jon in a tight hug that seemed to knock the air of his lungs. Jon looked almost confused by the hug at first, as if physical affection wasn't something that came naturally to him, but settled into it soon enough to at least hug Georgie back. They exchanged greetings, "how are you", "it's been too long", and then Georgie turned her attention the man that Jon now confirmed was Martin. Georgie's original assessment appeared to be accurate; on first impression he was nice, soft spoken, an interesting contrast to Jon's posh stiffness. Melanie finished off the introductions, trying her best not to let what Georgie had told her in the car bleed into her handshake with Jon. Maybe he did wince slightly when she squeezed his hand in hers, but she was just going to put that down to how slim and delicate his hands looks for now.

They soon moved inside, first to a waiting room, and then into the room where the ceremony took place. The ceremony itself was short and sweet, surprisingly emotional for now simple it was. The vows were the kind of things that Melanie would usually poke fun at in sappy romcoms, but secretly had a soft spot for that she mostly refused to acknowledge. She suspected Martin probably read a lot of poetry when she heard his, and as much as she was wary of liking Jon just yet, she couldn't deny his voice was pretty nice to listen to like this. Georgie looked a little more outwardly touched by it all, even reaching down to hold onto Melanie's hand during Jon's vows, the other one pressed to her chest just below her throat. Melanie decided to blame the warmth across her face on the wedding. The whole things was done quickly compared to other wedding Melanie had been to, with rings on finger and thirty or so photos on Georgie's phone in a matter of minutes.

They made their way back out of the ceremony room, Jon and Martin clinging to each other and smiling ear to ear. Melanie felt herself getting caught up it their giddiness as she and Georgie said their congratulations to the newlyweds. That was, until Martin made a comment about hoping their was something good on telly at this time of day.

"Whoa whoa, are you two just going home and, what, doing nothing now?"

The two of them froze a moment. Jon eventually muttered out tentatively, "Um...yes?"

Melanie was quite taken back by this. Sure, Georgie had told her enough about Jon was a bit of a strange guy, but to just not celebrate his wedding? And though she didn't want to make assumptions, especially about people that were practically strangers to her, form certain things Georgie had mentioned Melanie suspected that watching telly and doing nothing really did just mean watching telly and doing nothing.

"Oh come on, you have to do _something_. You two just got married, for Christ's sake. You need to celebrate!" Melanie insisted, "Even if you just went for drink or something."

Jon's face scrunched, "It's a bit early for alcohol. It's not even 4:30 yet."

"Fine, then coffee. Or tea, or whatever you like." Melanie said, tossing her arms up in an exaggerated gesture, "Hell, I'll even pay for it. Wedding coffee, my treat, what do you say?"

Jon and Martin exchanged a look, the smiles quickly returning to their faces, just as warm as they'd been before.

"That actually sounds great, Melanie. Thank you." Martin beamed.

The four of them made their way down to a nearby café, and found a nice, cozy table to sit at. They ended up spending nearly two hours sitting there, talking, enjoying hot drinks and little baked goods. For everything that Georgie had told him, Jon actually turned out to not be the worst company to keep. Sure he had a tendency to ramble on about some topic or another, but she really couldn't blame him. It was obvious from the way he wiggled in his seat that he was still bursting at the seams with excited energy, and Melanie knew that she had just as much of a tendency to do the same when she was excited like that. Martin was absolutely lovely to talk to, as well. In an instant he would go from being sweet and soft with Jon to volleying back almost anything Melanie could throw at him with rather impressive wit. It ended up one of the most pleasant evening Melanie had had in weeks. There was nothing on her mind other than the moment she was in, and the love that Jon and Martin obviously had for each other seem to seep out of them, making the whole atmosphere of their little bubble in life that much friendlier.

The fact that the whole time they were there Georgie was pressed up against her shoulder was also a plus in Melanie's books. 

* * *

"It's weird to think about sometimes." Melanie mused, half thinking out loud.

Georgie raised an eyebrow at her, "What's that?"

Melanie bounded up the last few steps of the tube station onto the street. They decided not to bother with getting another cab after they split off from Jon and Martin after the café, opting to just take the tube instead. She waited for Georgie to step back beside her at the top of the stairs before continuing her thought.

"Getting married. I don't really know why, but just thinking about people our about getting married, it's just...I don't know, it feel weird for some reason."

"Hmm. I mean, you're not wrong." Georgie hummed, "I don't really think about it much honestly."

"Me neither." Melanie laughed, shaking her head, "I think sometimes that's the problem. Like, I'm at this point in my life where even though I'm fully aware that I am in fact an adult, I haven't really been in any kind of serious relationship where I saw marriage as a possibility, so I just don't really think about it was something that's relevant to me right now. So, when I hear about people my age getting married - like Jon and Martin - I have this moment where I just think 'oh my god, there are people my age getting married', as if it's some strange thing. Then I stop and remember that 'oh my god, it's actually normal for people my age to get married' and it's always so strange."

"Yeah, exactly. I haven't even really stopped to think if I would hypothetically want to get married, and sometimes forget that that's now a thing that people just _do_ at our age." Georgie giggled.

They two of them shared a few more laughs as they continued to walk. Melanie almost felt bad about the walk, glancing down at the heels Georgie was wearing. It was a bit of a distance from the station to her flat, but Georgie had insisted on walking it with her.

"Do you think you ever would though." Asked Melanie shyly.

"Get married?" There was a few beats where Georgie looked away, deep in thought, "I mean, sure, maybe. It would all depend on who I'm with I guess. I think for me married itself is less important than just, you know, finding someone who I really like and care about."

Melanie nodded, "Same for me, I think. If I find someone who really wants to get married, I'd be happy to do that, but it's not...my goal, I guess."

"At this point, I would honestly just be happy to be with someone who I can actually stand to be around for more than two dates." 

"What, is guys mansplaining your job to you over Thai food just not doing it for you anymore?" Melanie teased, prompting a sardonic laugh from Georgie. 

"God, no. Seriously, even the free meals haven't been worth it for some of the jackasses I've put up with." She scoffed.

Laughing along with her, Melanie bumped her shoulder against Georgie's, "Well, hey, you're doing better than me. I haven't been on a date in ages, and my last relations consisted of a week long fling I had about a year and a half ago with with a girl I met in a bar, shortly followed by a a two month relationship with a guy where I spent the entirety of it questioning if I even liked men."

Much to Melanie's surprise, a hand came to rest between her shoulder blades, stroking a small, comforting line between them, "That's just because you never put yourself out there. Melanie, if you wanted a relationship, you could probably find someone easily. You're a catch, anyone would be lucky to have you."

Something in her voice made a whole new swarm of butterflies begging to flutter in Melanie's gut. She took a deep breath, trying to settle them down, but every time she glanced over at Georgie her efforts proved to be in vain. She felt lucky that Georgie had her eyes focused forward on where they were going, because that way she likely wouldn't see the shade of pink that Melanie knew was erupting across her face.

After noticing that she still hadn't responded in the several seconds she had been looking over at Georgie, Melanie shrugged, and laughed out in a weak voice, "I don't know. Maybe I'm just waiting to try and find the right person."

Georgie shot her a glace, brief enough that Melanie couldn't get a good read on it, "Maybe we're both just looking in the wrong place."

"What do you mean?" 

Georgie was quiet for a moment, seeming to be lost in contemplation once again. With a small sigh, she turned back to Melanie, "I wonder sometimes if the reason dating can suck so much is because you're always taking chances on people. You go on a date with someone you hardly know, so you don't really have any idea what they're actually like. It's impossible to know if you're actually going to get on well with someone like that. You're always just hoping for the best."

"That's...yeah, that's a really good point."

"I wish that it didn't have to be like that." Georgie continued, "I wish you could just date someone you already knew you got along with. You know, someone who you know you have things in common with, and share similar interest. Someone that you're already friends with. It would just be easier...maybe better even. Don't you think?"

Once again there was a strange note to Georgie's voice. It was almost like she was trying to suggest something that Melanie couldn't quite figure out. There was the little hopeful part of her mind that was trying to read into it, especially with the way Georgie was now standing close enough that their arms brushed as they walked, but she was quick to try and quiet that down. She cared about Georgie, and it was because of that that she was determined to not make things between them weird.

"Uh, y-yeah. Sure would be nice if we could do that, wouldn't it be. If only." Melanie said, much less casually than she would have liked.

Georgie sighed again, sounding almost defeated, "Yeah. If only."

Their conversation died down between them as the neared Melanie's building, though neither of them moved to be any farther apart form the other. Georgie followed her up the steps to her door, and they lingered in silence a moment. The air was thick and heavy around them, making Melanie feel like her breathing was too labored, too loud.

"So..." Georgie began, at the same moment that Melanie began to say "Thanks for walking with me..."

They giggled at themselves, the tension between them breaking.

"It was really nice, what you did for Jon and Martin." Georgie said, starting again. Her smile turning a hint bashful, and her eyes soften, she took a half step closer to Melanie, "I certainly enjoyed myself. I wouldn't mind doing something like that again sometime soon."

Melanie quirked her eyebrows, looking back at her a little confused, "What, like hang out with Jon and Martin again. Yeah, I mean, today was pretty fun. But I will remind you, you did say that next time I meet Jon I can knock him off his little academic pedestal."

"Yes, I did say that, didn't I." Georgie laughed, shaking her head. Then she cleared her throat, and her face turned determined, "But, I actually meant, um, maybe just the two of us."

Until now, Melanie hadn't realized just how close Georgie was standing to her. Sure her front step wasn't huge, but it wasn't so small that it was necessary for the two of them to be standing with no more than three centimeters between their bodies. Melanie's mouth flapped open and close a few times, words refusing to form. Her whole body was frozen in place, and her brain was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what exactly was going on to formulate a decent reply. 

"L-like...like as friends?" 

Georgie's eyes fell shut as she let out a small groan. She ran a hand over the top of her head, and Melanie began to worry that she had screwed this whole thing up. She continued to stand there, waiting for Georgie to walk away from her, leave her there alone in front of her flat. But then Georgie looked up. In a smooth movement, she brought a hand up to rest on Melanie's shoulder, leaned closer, and kissed her cheek.

She actually _kissed her cheek_.

Melanie's skin burned under the touch of her lips, the heat quickly spreading first across her face, then down through her whole body, hot enough that she was worried Georgie could feel it radiating off of her. When Georgie pulled back, she met Melanie's eyes, her gaze now set with pure determination. No room left for misinterpretation.

If Melanie had been frozen before, she was completely petrified now. 

"Did you want to come in?" She stammered out, barely even aware that she was moving her mouth as her mind and body started to function again, "I was going to order take away, i-if you wanted to join me."

Georgie beamed at her, with a warmth that almost rivaled she had seen from Jon and Martin earlier that day.

"That sounds great. I'd love to."

"Cool." Was all Melanie was able to squeak as she fumbled to unlock her door. As she followed Georgie inside, she didn't even try to ignore the way her heart was soaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Jon and Martin can get together precanon in this fic, so can Melanie and Georgie. I've already indulged by ace romance fantasies a bunch, my lesbian romance fantasies need some love too. And if I feel like making Melanie and Georgie have big ol' crushes on each other, it is my right to write them like that. You can try and convince me that Melanie is not a disaster gay, but you would be unsuccessful in doing so (and yes, it is projection).


End file.
